


Gordon in Breen's Office, What Propaganda Will He Make?

by thoopsy



Series: GiBO-verse, I Guess! [1]
Category: Half-Life
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Barney simps pspsps, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, I think this technically officially counts as, Less Than Three I like to sprinkle in random pieces of backstory and then refuse to elaborate, M/M, Mute Gordon Freeman, Slow Burn, combine!gordon, watch as I figure out relevant tags!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 47,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25399345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoopsy/pseuds/thoopsy
Summary: The right man in the wrong place can make all the difference. And, truly, what is a place more wrong for Gordon Freeman than Dr Breen's office?Well, what's a little misinformation between friends?[How will Gordon's life change, living in the Citadel?When will he put 2 and 2 together and realize something Isn't Right?How long can I make Barney Calhoun yearn for?Will my burning hatred for Ravenholme be made clear?These are the questions you should tune in to have answered!]
Relationships: Barney Calhoun & Alyx Vance, Barney Calhoun/Gordon Freeman, Eli Vance/Issac Kleiner [background], Gordon Freeman & Alyx Vance
Series: GiBO-verse, I Guess! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064696
Comments: 195
Kudos: 463





	1. The Wrong Man in the Wrong Place

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to the discord server for coming up with the base idea, and then rambling about the AU with me for a couple hours! It was fun.
> 
> I'll try not to make this As angsty as we considered, though, so forgive me for putting Gordon and Barney through Less pain.

Talking to, or being talked at by, The G-Man was one of the most disorienting experiences Gordon had ever been through. Which said a lot, considering all of the other experiences he'd been through.

He'd compare it to watching an ameture film made by someone excited to finally have more than one camera angle. Who’d just found the visual effects on their editing program.

It seemed he was coming to the end of his speech, though, when he said. "Wake up. Wake up and smell the ashes. But don't... For-get. You work for **_me_ ** _."_

Turns out he was right about that. Gordon didn't have time to think about what the fuck ANY of that meant when reality came back around him. He was in a building he'd never seen before, facing some sort of an... Entrance?

"What's the meaning of this?" Someone asked, and he whipped around to face them. They didn't give him any time to answer, "Who are you? How did you _get in here?_ "

Was that _Doctor Breen_? From Administration? He'd never _truly_ met him, personally. Couldn't even remember his first name, it was Maybe Walter, but. He'd seen the picture in the lobby. He'd heard the gossip about how he was too good for the scientists. 

He'd seen his empty desk on his way out of Black Mesa, which reminded Gordon of a very good point. Him asking too much was sort of what got them into this mess.

Lots of questions raced through his head, but the main one was a simple _what the hell?_ He was kind of expecting to be tossed into an empty field or something. Or, like, a vat of toxic waste. Maybe. G-Man probably wouldn't want him dead. Hopefully?

"Wait, it can't be-," Breen was standing from his desk, it looked a lot like the one he'd had before Black Mesa's probable collapse. Dark wood, fairly uncluttered as a status symbol. He'd always been too important for paperwork, was the gossip that went around. "Young man, has anyone ever told you that you look an awful lot like Gordon Freeman?"

Color him out of his depths. He gave him a nervous smile, and nodded. "I'd like to think I look like myself." Gordon signed, even though it was probably futile. 

He lit up, but not in a way that acknowledged he understood that it was a joke. 

"Would you look at that!" Breen was coming around his desk now, "I don't know how, but I certainly won't look a gift horse in the mouth. It's so _good_ to have you back, Mister Freeman."

Gordon didn't have any reason to not trust Dr Breen, and maybe it was just the adrenaline and morphine and whatever _else_ was in his veins right now. He was getting bad vibes, though. School Principal about to suspend you for a week vibes. [ _What was he_ **_supposed_ ** _to do when that kid stole his hearing aid, sir? Not like Gordon could steal their ears. Punching was the kind thing to do, sir!_ ]

"Thank you." He signed, nice to be polite, plus that one always came across pretty well.

"Ah, we may need to get a translator in here. If I ever knew any sign, it's long gone by now!" Or, maybe not. Breen laughed as he came over. Put an arm on his shoulder, "Why don't you sit at my desk, I'll go find someone."

Gordon nodded and sat, though his eyes were scanning the room for escapes and weapons. Probably unnecessary, but he had no idea how long it had been or if, like, headcrabs were around. For instance. 

Doctor Breen walked off through an exit. He said something to a guard, which means that there _were_ guards here, and- Damn, okay, the way that person was dressed was bizarre.

Their outfit was bulkier than any soldier he'd come across, but it wasn't completely unlike soldier garb. Kind of hard to make out details at this distance, and needing new glasses.

For some reason their eye holes were lit up blue. That seemed like it'd get in the way of actually seeing, but looking at the screens behind Breen's desk.

Well, he might be in the future.

The guard was still looking at him. It was unnerving as hell, the gun in their hands was pretty big and pretty scary.

Of course, bigger didn't always mean better with guns. He knew that. But this office was nice, this _desk_ was nice, so Breen was probably still important. In some capacity. So whoever was guarding him wearing a gas mask and full body protective gear was probably _trained._

There wasn't anything in here that would be a good blunt force instrument. No lamps. Without his Suit enhancing his strength, he probably couldn't rip one of those weird TVs off the wall. Certainly couldn't throw a whole desk.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Gordon would just have to sit tight. And wait.

* * *

Doctor Breen came back a horrible, tense, amount of time later with a lady in tow. Her sweater was nice, though a stitch near the shoulder was threatening to unknit the whole thing. It was probably handmade by someone else, or maybe she just thought she wouldn't be coming in to work today. She looked good, though.

He got out of the chair to stand with them, even if his legs were still... Very sore. If he got up slowly it wasn't _just_ because he didn't want that guard thinking he was trying anything.

She held out a hand to him, and he took it. "Mr Freeman, it's such a delight to meet you! I'm Doctor Judith. Just Judith is fine, it's what most of my colleagues call me." 

Judith was _very_ close to having a sunny demeanor, but it wasn't quite there. Like seeing the sun's shadow on a cloud, hiding most of its warmth.

"Hello, J-U-D-I-T-H." He signed with a smile, once she gave him his hand back. Perhaps it was unwise, but he'd like to cut to the chase. "What year is it?"

She looked a little shocked he’d asked, "What year? Why, Mister Freeman, it's 202X."

Doctor Breen nodded, like he Understood something, "Yes, 20 years since the Black Mesa incident. You haven't changed one bit, but the world certainly has. Judith, would you care to translate his questions? I can give the best answers, as our Ambassador."

"Ambassador to?" Gordon asked, making sure the confusion was clear in his face. Judith repeated it.

"Ah, well, Mr Freeman!" It was already starting to get on his nerves, he'd worked **hard** for that Doctorate! "That takes a bit of explanation itself. When The Black Mesa Incident happened, there were... Repercussions many could never have imagined. I am our Ambassador to another world, where our Benefactors live. They helped settle down the chaos."

... He'd never thought to consider if the rest of the world was fine. He'd never thought about anything other than his own safety, and at quieter moments, his family. Barney.

"Yes, it can be hard to believe the state the world fell to. However, our Benefactors have given us the makings of utopia! All we have to do is live well and within rules for our own safety." Breen continued, and Gordon thought being an Ambassador was fitting. He talked like a politician. Which wasn't always bad, careful didn't mean _bad_ , Gordon.

“Recently, we’ve been having trouble convincing people to take care of themselves. It’s very sad.” He didn’t sound like it was very sad, “Disobeying curfews and putting themselves in danger! Being out at night, it’s not permitted for a reason, you understand?”

He didn’t completely, but he had a guess. Headcrabs always tended to hide in dark corners, in his experience. Perhaps, on Earth, they’d taken to something like a nocturnal schedule? Xen didn’t really have a Sun.

He turned to Judith. “Do we still have h-e-a-d-c-r-a-b-s?” Gordon named them something different, but all of the scientists at the Lambda complex seemed pretty attached to the name. So, you know, he hoped it’d stick.

“He asked if we still have headcrabs, Wallace.” She looked a little sad, which sort of gave him his answer. 

Wait, fuck, his name was Wallace? 

Breen turned away, as if looking out a big window. There was no window, so he looked at his weird wall-computers. “Unfortunately, we still do. I’m sure you came across several in Black Mesa, and can attest to their horror. It is terrible that our citizens insist on putting themselves in danger. They don’t listen to me, Mister Freeman. They don’t listen to my warnings.”

Judith looked like she wanted to say something, but she held herself back. Breen continued, “For a long time, I’ve been looking for a replacement. Someone who is more… Convincing. Tales of your bravery have reached far, Mister Freeman.”

“Bravery?” Gordon’s eyebrow quirked on its own accord.

“Oh, you’re being modest, Mister Freeman.” Judith said instead of translating, “You survived the Black Mesa Incident and saved lives. Of course people would spread around some folklore.” She gave him a true smile. 

“Ah, yes.” Doctor Breen was back over with them, apparently all done with his drama. “More importantly, you’re more approachable than I. Perhaps the youth need a face they haven’t been staring at their entire lives, to help them realize that following the rules makes life for _everyone_ easier.”

Gordon went to college. He went to college a lot, and he very _strongly_ remembered how unruly his peers could be. His second roommate, the first one only cared for a bachelor’s degree, was always doing things that were damaging. To himself and others.

Drinking a couple too many beers and passing out on the lawn was _very_ different than sneaking out when there were deadly aliens around, however. 

The horror at the thought must’ve shown on his face. “So, you consent in helping us, Mister Freeman?”

“Get ready, this is a hard one.” Gordon said to Judith, you know, like a joke. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear reader, consider checking out the Playlist. https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLqnGeU3n6sbbKBP27B-HYJlIQNAYAC3pL 
> 
> The songs all mean something, so feel free to read into it! But also, you shouldn't get any major spoilers from it. It's music.


	2. Gordon in Breen's Office, Who's Heart Will He Break?

Gordon had been cleaned, bandaged, healed with scarily effective future medicine, had his beard trimmed, hair styled. Now he was standing in Breen’s office once again, having makeup applied while he read his script.

There was some sort of paper bib keeping his turtleneck clean. Which was good, it was a very nice one. Soft and warm. Very welcome here, in the "Citadel." The whole place was so cold! 

The most important things, though, to Breen seemed to be that it was orange and that it covered his Barnacle scars. Which was fair enough, as the suit liked to say, those were some pretty _major_ lacerations detected.

The makeup was both because everyone did it on TV, apparently, and also. There was still some bruising. Deep dark eye bags, swelling from where one of the soldiers kicked him when he was down, you know. Surviving the apocalypse stuff.

“Mister Freeman!” Breen drew his attention from the script by being as jovial as he always seemed to be. Like he was surprised Gordon was still there. 

Judith, who was doing the makeup, didn’t acknowledge Breen’s arrival.

“I trust you’ve taken some time to become familiar with your message, Mister Freeman? It meets your standards?” 

Well, he’d read it, but he did have one concern. He placed the strange electronic pad in his lap, and tapped Judith’s shoulder to get her attention. 

He wouldn’t mention how high she jumped if she didn’t. “It’s very wordy.”

“Mister Freeman likes it, but thinks it might be a little long?” Okay he definitely didn’t say he liked it.

“Ah, perhaps that might be my own ways slipping in, Mister Freeman! We’ll work on shortening the ones to come, alright? For now, let’s stick with how I wrote it.” 

Doctor Breen’s grin was tight, and Gordon understood that meant he wanted no changes. However. 

Gordon held up the device for Breen. It had his edit on screen, or- It did, it went into darkness again. Gordon still wasn’t sure why it did that. He was an MIT guy, not an IT guy.

Breen’s face remained blank for a few moments, “You know, I’m impressed. This is very close to usable.” 

He tapped at the screen for awhile, looking thoughtful. Judith took the bib off, and declared him done.

“Here we go, Mister Freeman.” The screen was handed back to him, “A positive compromise, I think.”

He scanned it over. A couple things had been changed to the same kind of wording Breen liked to use, but it wasn’t horrible. Gordon gave a thumbs up. 

He hugged him around the shoulder, “I think this will be the start of a wonderful partnership, Mister Freeman.”

* * *

It had been a _long_ shift. 

Barney's replacement had been late, and it'd been for a terrible reason, **that** was for sure. The interrogation and surveillance room smelled with something fresh again, and his knee was acting up. The only thing that could possibly make today a little less rotten was seeing Alyx again.

She was on this side of town, helping Kleiner with the teleporter. She'd promised him a beer, and damn if he couldn't use it.

He ducked into an alleyway, climbed the fire escape, and there she was! On the roof, like Eli would hate. It wasn't a bad meeting spot, though. This was one of the tallest buildings around, no one would be snoopin'. Plus, the place was abandoned, so they had somewhere to go. Just in case.

Barney flopped down next to her, and he avoided meeting her knowing gaze. "Long shift?"

"Long shift." He agreed, and groaned, "Took the long way so I wouldn't have to listen to the eugenics propaganda again, I don't think I could stop myself from smashin' one of those screens."

She laughed, short and sweet, "I don't blame you! But maybe you should've today."

"What, are we all done with needin' a spy? Because that's how you lose a spy." 

" _Well._ " She shifted to lean back a bit more, and the roof creaked, "There might be something new with them."

Now why was Alyx soundin' like the cat that ate the canary? "Ooh, 'd he add another one to the rotation? I can't wait to hear Breen talk about the dangers of alcohol on the sanctity of the human race." 

Speaking of, he held out a hand, looking pointedly at her. Alyx handed a bottle over, "Oh it's _way_ bigger than that." He got it uncapped and took a swig. "There's a new guy doing Breencasts!"

Forgive him if his drink went down wrong, and he was left spluttering. At least he hadn’t spit it out, but his lungs didn’t like beer that much. 

As he tried to recover from his coughing fit, she exclaimed, “Right! He doesn’t even look brainwashed, is the thing. He’s got personality to him.”

Barney hit his chest a couple times, like that might help, and finally his throat calmed down. “How’d they manage that?” He croaked.

She shrugged, “No clue, I only caught the second half of it anyway, out a window. But, I was _thinking_...”

Oh boy, she was _thinking._ As her lifelong Fun Uncle, Barney knew what that meant. She was about to do something dangerous and he’d be coming along as backup. 

“Come watch them with me, we can make fun of him together! Maybe see if there’s any important intell.”

They both knew there wouldn’t be anything important in a _Breencast,_ but he smiled, and took the bait. “Why not? Just let me deal with my beer.”

As he poured it into one of his canteens, he thought. Yeah, Alyx Vance probably would be the death of him. But there were worse things to die for than your favorite niece. 

* * *

They snuck their way over rooftops, around security stations, through abandoned houses. Recently they’d found this room that somehow still had electricity, despite no one living there anymore. It was kind of a big oversight, but one that was super easy to use.

So here they were, sitting in two stolen chairs. Trying not to think about the stains, of course, and watching Breen’s stupid face say the same dumb stuff they’d both heard hundreds of times.

It was Eugenics Propaganda Ethursday [or Pthursday depending on what team you were on]. That just meant it played more often than anything else. Looped three times before moving on to something else, instead of just once. It was one way to mark the days, that’s for sure.

By the time they were at the end, Alyx was imitating him in a silly, overly deep voice, “I have on _good authority_ , is close at _haand._ ”

Technically, it wasn’t that funny. It was nice to joke, though. “You think he washes his hands? I fuckin’ doubt it.” 

“Gross!”

“Right? Gordon always told me this statistic, about how few men wash their hands. It made me want to wear gloves. He _did_ wear gloves, when he could get away with it…” Barney sighed, “He wouldn’t eat nachos with me until he taught me how to scrub my hands effectively. I did get sick way less afterwards.”

His eyes snapped back open, once he realized he’d closed them to picture sharing nachos, watching some rom-com they both accidentally ended up loving. Alyx was giving him a knowing look. “Yeah, yeah, I was young and gay.”

“As if you’re not still gay.” She rolled her eyes, and looked back at the screen. “Look! There’s the guy!”

He hadn’t noticed it, but there wasn’t a voice talking anymore. Just soothing music. He redirected his gaze and.

Barney’s heart stopped.

There, on the screen, was the exact face he’d just been picturing. “ _I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what sorts of things can happen if you go out. We all know the dangers.”_

Gordon Freeman, wearing an orange turtleneck, a pristine white lab coat, and black gloves. He could barely register his words, even with the subtitles. He looked so concerned. And so. Handsome.

_“I understand how hard it must be to stay cooped up, but a human life is worth more than a little fun. Our Benefactors only want the best for you.”_

Oh **no.** For a moment, he’d been caught up in the fantasy of seeing that face again, safe and unharmed. Gordon looking at him like that, after he’d pulled something rushing to help with the AC system.

 _“Stay safe, and listen to the rules. We’re here to help._ ”

Gordon Freeman was under Combine control. 

“How unconvincing can you get! The worth of a human life?” Alyx sounded like she was grinning, and went to give him another playful shove. He couldn’t see it, he couldn’t turn away from the screen, but he could imagine her face falling as she saw him here. Frozen.

“Alyx. That’s him.”

“It’s who?”

The message looped, and this time he got to see the beginning. 

_“Hello, City 17!_ ” The smile that lit up Gordon’s face was painful for Barney. It looked like every other greeting he’d gotten from him.

“Alyx, just look.” He choked out.

 _“I’m Doctor Gordon Freeman._ ” 

The smile fell off Gordon’s face, like Gordon realizing Barney had a black eye again. Like Gordon realizing he hadn’t gotten any sleep last night. Like-

_“I’ve recently been told that some people are going out after curfew! This alarms me, it’s very dangerous to be out at night.”_

He was convinced. He was on the enemy side, and he was real. Because he signed his name, he signed it just like he _always had._ Who would, after twenty years, remember how to do that so perfectly? How to smile just like Gordon, to crinkle his eyebrows in concern just like Gordon.

The screen blurred with the first tears Barney’s eyes had produced in a long time.

“That can’t be him, though, right?” Alyx asked, and no. It couldn’t be him. But it was.

“He knew his name sign, Alyx. Who in the Combine would know it? Who’d remember it?” He was staring at his own hands, now. Even these old suckers probably needed practice to get it back. It was so long since he’d let his hands do the talking.

There was a long silence, where all he could hear was that music. That awful, calm music. Two people having completely different thoughts about the exact same thing.

“We need to tell the Resistance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barney had a long shift, and he didn't enjoy it. You could say it made him sad. A Blue Shift.
> 
> Anyway, I didn't give Gordon a name sign or describe it because I am completely unqualified to do that.


	3. Great Ideas from Cubbage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The working title for this one was "Gordon Sadboy Moments". Take that as you will!

The room they had set up for Gordon was. Pretty nice, after everything he’d been through these past couple days.

Or, really, everything he’d been through two decades ago? It was a lot to think about. His life was already so weird, though, this might as well happen.

The walls were the same dark material as everywhere else he’d been, radiating cold. There was a door to a bathroom area, where he was to clean himself daily. As if he needed that instruction.

There was a desk with another electronic pad, and a shelf with books. He’d scanned them over, and it was mostly information on recent technological achievements and. Math books? _Oh wow, he was a scientist, that must mean he loved doing calculations as his only hobby_.

Currently he was curled up on the bed, wearing long sleeved PJs, huddled under a blanket. It was very plain, utilitarian. Everything in here was, but he wouldn’t complain about a little extra warmth. 

Sleep wasn’t coming easy. Right now, he didn’t have anything important. He was just doing some sudoku. [Okay, _some_ recreational math can be fun. Sudoku isn’t even math, it’s a puzzle!]

Tomorrow, Breen would send him transcripts of past speeches on issues that were still relevant, so Gordon could fix them up to be more approachable. Easier to understand, and more likely to be followed. 

It was kind of funny to think of himself as approachable, he’d always been the jerk that was too good to talk to people, or, well. Once people picked up on the fact he _couldn’t_ hold a verbal conversation, the ableism usually kicked in. 

Now, Barney on the other hand.

Thinking about him **hurt.** But it was important to. It was important to picture his face, to picture how easy he’d be taking this situation. Always smooth talking, always smiling, Barney Calhoun.

They couldn’t get married, it wasn’t possible after they’d been dating for a couple years. Wasn’t legal. That hadn’t stopped Gordon from getting him a ring.

He was going to give it to him after the Big Test. 

Gordon put the pad aside, so he wouldn’t get it wet.

It was emerald. It was an emerald ring, a masculine, platinum band with the emeralds set in. Barney used to compare his eyes to emeralds, and maybe it was sappy, but he thought. Why not be sappy! They’d watched _Spaceballs_ together, did Gordon think Barney was above cheese? NO!

He wrapped his arms around his shoulders, and squeezed. He could feel himself shake.

It wasn’t _fair._ Things often weren’t, which meant you had to change them. But this couldn’t be changed. It had been _twenty fucking years._ Barney had been at work that day, at Black Mesa. 

If he survived [what a noncommittal word if was]. It’d been two decades. Gordon was just some geek Barney liked playing laser tag with, that he liked cuddling. That he liked kissing.

_He could still almost feel his embrace, it was so easy to pretend that these were Barney’s arms._

After twenty years, though, someone better had to come along, right? After so long, it was probably way less taboo to be gay. Barney probably had all sorts of options! Smart twinks must be a dime a dozen, these days!

He wasn’t sure what hurt worse, the idea that Barney had moved into a little house in the suburbs, with vents that were useless for air and just used for crawling. With a baby or two that he and his new partner adopted. All of the things they’d dreamed about doing, after Black Mesa, after Anomalous Materials didn’t need him anymore. After Barney got that certificate from the local trade school.

Or that Barney didn’t get to live in this new Utopia, because he hadn’t survived. Fuck, the image of him. Of him crushed under rubble, or his face withered away by a headcrab, or. Somehow, something _worse._

Logically, Dead Barney should be worse than Barney the Family Man of Someone Else’s Family, but jealousy stung. Gordon was smart, but that didn’t mean he was good with his emotions. 

So he trembled on his new, awful little slab of a bed, tears coming fast and wetting his blanket. He finally let all the emotions of what he’d just _been through_ crash down upon him.

Even if he knew he shouldn’t be mourning a ring, buried miles down in what used to be a Black Mesa locker room, that didn’t stop him from being human.

* * *

This might be a worst-case scenario.

Gordon Freeman, former Black Mesa scientist, survivor of the Black Mesa Incident, survivor of a couple dozen US Military war crimes, _resistance-wide symbol of hope_ , had returned! And promptly joined the enemy.

There wasn’t nearly enough celebrating about their new teleportation technology, it worked to get folks to Black Mesa East for a meeting. Kleiner stayed behind. Someone still needed to operate it. Sort of an oversight, if you asked Barney.

“I’m tellin' ya, that’s _gotta_ be him! I don’t know how, but it is!” He insisted, arms crossed over his chest so he wouldn’t just start wildly gesturing. 

“It certainly does _look_ like him.” Doctor Kleiner’s voice crackled a little with static, as he cradled Lamarr. He looked thoughtful, and Barney couldn’t think of any way he’d be able to look thoughtful holding a headcrab.

“Barney said that this.” Alyx replayed the greeting again, on the screen they had set up across from Kleiner and Cubbage’s. “Is Gordon’s name sign. Who would’ve known Gordon’s name sign?”

Eli Vance sighed, “Not many people would’ve remembered it. He didn’t have a lot of friends outside our department.”

“Any.” Barney corrected, “He didn’t have any friends, not really. Just some folks from Anomalous Materials, me, and he’d get tolerated by Security when we went out for laser tag or paintball.”

Alyx looked really curious about what paintball was, and he’d definitely be telling her later about how they used to win their movie night money. No one believed Gordon was any good a shot, so folks were pretty willing to agree to gamble a bit.

Doctor Kleiner piped back in, “Ah! J. Backman in the Energy division had photographic memory, did he not!” 

He had no idea how he remembered that rumor, but damn he sure did. “Tall guy, right? Wore a tie with cats on it? Long hair?”

“Indeed, that would be him!”

Unfortunately, he was remembering the guy correctly. Barney sighed, “Yeah, soldiers got him. Right in front of me, too.”

“Ah.” That was about the right response. “Sorry, Mister Calhoun.”

He was happy to wave it off, but Alyx put a hand on his shoulder. Then gave him a quick squeeze. 

His attention was drawn back to the screens, Cubbage cleared his throat and puffed out his chest. “Well, gentlemen! I think the solution is simple!”

“Very few things in life are truly simple.” A Vort, the one who was sitting in on this meeting, said mournfully. They hadn’t been talking much, not that Barney blamed them. It must be hard sorting through the emotions of an entire species. Especially emotions on The One Freeman’s speech which had _specifically_ called out human life being valuable. It was a low blow.

No one had ever taught Cubbage that you didn’t have to shout to be heard on the video call, apparently. “Be that as it may! We must simply find Freeman alone, and take him out!” 

Barney’s eyes widened, and he saw Eli flinch out of the corner of his eye. His heart was gonna actually give out soon, “Now, wait, hold _on_ a minute. Gordon Freeman’s a great guy, he’s probably just confused or somethin'.”

“Killing Doctor Freeman wouldn’t solve _anything._ ” Eli fixed Cubbage with a glare, “I sent him away for help once, and I’d really appreciate it if we managed to get him back.”

“From what I’ve been told.” Alyx gave him another squeeze, before she separated to do something with a screen. “Gordon Freeman was a strong advocate for people’s rights. All sorts of people!”

Eli nodded, wistfully, “You should’ve seen him when the ADA passed.”

“Don’t forget the party he had on the ten year anniversary! I believe you attended that, Mister Calhoun?”

He had indeed. It was the wildest he’d ever seen Gordon. He had a big presentation about disability rights advocacy that everyone sat through before the drinks came out. If you wanted some of his beer you had to sign the petition he was putting together. It was about making Black Mesa more accessible, with layout change blueprints. Suggestions of where you don’t really _need_ a ladder, and a ramp would do just fine. Etc. 

Oh, right. He was supposed to be convincing in a not-gay way. “He’s worth way more alive than dead. If we killed him, we’d just be back to Breencasts, anyway!”

“Oh, Doctor Mossman!” Dr Kleiner exclaimed, “We were starting to worry. Would you like to go across?”

The transportation sequence, as well as how bright and loud it was, interrupted them for a few moments. Mossman came across unharmed. “What’s this meeting about?” She asked as she dusted herself off.

Kleiner answered, which was kind of funny if he thought about it. She’d just left over there, she could’ve asked back _before_ they used the revolutionary teleportation tech. “Doctor Freeman has made an appearance. Unfortunately, it was in one of Breen’s broadcasts! As a tool of propaganda! We’re discussing the course of action we should take.”

She didn’t look as shocked as she should, but she probably also passed by half a dozen breen screens on her way. “Well, we all know my opinion on Mister Freeman. I’m a bit biased!”

It was a sorry day when the only person in a room _not_ biased was Cubbage. 

* * *

Luckily, Gordon did get _some_ sleep. Turns out crying for the lost love of your life and also for how much metaphorical blood was on your hands tires a man out!

A guard was leading him somewhere, and apparently they’d been outside his room _all night._ Not reassuring. Made him very anxious, so like the opposite of reassuring. 

“ **THIS WAY.”** They jabbed in a direction with their gun, then settled in next to the other guard who was already here. This must be Breen’s office again. He was slipping, he hadn’t even tried to memorize the route they’d taken.

“Good morning, Mister Freeman!” Breen greeted him, sunnily. There was another chair in front of his desk, now. Gordon took it. “You slept well?”

He nodded, you know, like a lie. 

“Well, Judith couldn’t make it in today.” Did she not also live here? Huh. Doctor Breen held up one of those weird little screens. He’d brought his own, so he placed it down on the desk. “Instead, let’s use technology to communicate. Does that work for you?” 

“I can do that, sure.” Gordon signed, trying to keep his face from splitting into a huge grin. 

“Type on the pad, Mister Freeman.”

“Of course.” This time, he couldn’t hold back the smile.

“Ah, I see you were joking with me!” It was clear he wasn’t amused, but he was going to pretend to be, “Very good! Let’s get started, however, we have a lot to work on.”

So, they went through some topics Breen would like him to touch on. He explained them briefly as he went through them, they were all things Gordon could understand. Dehydration being a fad was pretty horrible.

“Now, let’s get you back to your room. I have an important meeting with our Benefactors later. Send me your edits, I’ll read them over and confirm with a final version.” 

The pads could send each other something similar to E-Mail, though it wasn’t called that anymore. He sent Breen a message that said, “I actually have a question. It’s been 20 years. Do same-gender couples have the right to marry?”

“Why, Mr Freeman, it’s just as easy to wed as a gay person as it is if you’re in a normal couple.”

Gordon raised an eyebrow pointedly. 

“I mean! A straight couple, forgive me. It’s become such a non-issue that I’ve hardly spoken of it in a long time.”

He’d just put that down in Gordon’s Anxiety File Folder of Reasons that Breen wasn’t to be **completely** trusted. He probably meant no harm, however. If Dr Breen was homophobic, he’d really prefer to be kicked out now.

“I myself am gay. I was asking, because I would like to find my partner.” He sent it, and watched Breen’s reaction carefully. If things went bad, the pad could probably be shattered over his head to disorient him. Then he could use Breen’s to hit that guard with, and hopefully get a weapon.

Luckily, no one was privy to how easily he pictured the violence.

Dr Breen’s expression tightened, “I presume he worked at Black Mesa?” Gordon nodded. “Unfortunate as it is to say, he most likely perished. This will be hard to process, I’m sure. I’ll let you get back to your room and get started on your broadcasts, hm?

Gordon was expecting that. He didn’t know what the mortality numbers were, but they had to be high. “May I see the city, instead?” To get his mind off of it. Maybe find a phone book. 

Breen shook his head, sadly. “Mr Freeman, you have a lot of work to do today, and so do I. You can simply open the window in your room if you need some fresh air. Plus, it would be unwise to go out with intense emotions and a recovering body.”

He conceded defeat, he’d just have to ask again once he’d done a larger chunk of his work. Breen’s reasoning made sense, unfortunately.

He’d get to explore later, Gordon reminded himself. It’s not like he was trapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Americans with Disabilities Act passed in 1990. I'm gonna say Gordon was in the 15-17 age range, meaning he was 25-27 when he had that party. 
> 
> So, the cascade happened from 2000 to 2002! Now, dear readers, is this a good timeline, where Smash Mouth got to make and release All Star? Or is it a bad timeline, where that didn't happen because... If the world is ended don't you at least want Smash Mouth's All Star? And no one gets nice things?
> 
> Next time on Gordon Fuckin it Up! Will he realize the Freecasts aren't actually accessible to folks with visual impairments! Or will he assume for some reason that Breen has it covered! Find out soon!


	4. Gordon's First Photography Class

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the vibes or quality are any different, it's because I finally listened to songs other than ELO's "Don't Bring Me Down". That's right, the previous three chapters were written with the same song on loop!
> 
> Respect me!
> 
> Basshunter's "I Can Walk on Water" and Jack Stauber's "Baby Hotline" tried their best, but they can't compare to whatever sick power Don't Bring Me Down gave me.
> 
> [Mentions of past injuries warning. Nothing graphic]

Turns out there  _ was _ a window, Breen hadn’t been lying about that. It wasn’t one in the traditional sense, with glass covering an opening. Instead it was a chunk of wall that opened to expose a view of the city.

It was very lovely down there, at least from this height. He was pretty sure he was on one of the top floors, all of the buildings turning into abstract shapes with color lights on top. Lots of blue.

Though, again, the seeing details part was made more difficult by his glasses. He’d been meaning to get new ones, he and Barney  _ were _ going to the optometrist on Saturday. He’d sort of missed that appointment, huh?

Sometimes things looked better blurry, though. Himself, for instance. He’d taken some time to gaze at himself in a mirror. Covered in fresh scars. Well, the top surgery scars wouldn’t be lonely anymore! They fit right in.

The suit had saved him from most things, but there were horrible lines where some of the metal pieces had scraped him when he’d run, or crouched, or curled up in a corner behind a bunch of crates desperately wishing for rest. Also a couple spots where a bullet had somehow managed to get through.

He was wondering if the rapid healing made someone more or less likely to scar, but it didn’t truly matter. He was still alive.

He did have things to think about other than sudoku and his own body, now, though! Positives!

A guard had brought in the camera set up they’d used for his first message, yesterday. He’d asked for instruction on how to operate it, but they either couldn’t understand what he said or didn’t care. Probably option 1.

The only place with good enough lighting to make sure all his hand shapes would be distinct, well, it was the bathroom. It seemed a little juvenile, but Gordon could handle being a dork. He’d been Gordon Dorkman before, and he would be again. [Also Dorkon Freeman, though most people who went that route got confused and called him Dorkman Freeman and really, who was getting ridiculed then?]

So, he spent what felt like multiple hours in front of the camera. Pressing buttons until it had the light, he was pretty sure the light meant he was recording, saying some things, and then rushing back over to turn it off and check how it looked.

It took him a good while to figure out that the little screen on the camera wasn’t one he could touch. Longer to find he could send the videos to his pad-thing, and watch them there. It really helped with the viewing quality. The tiny screen on the camera was quickly becoming his enemy.

Slowly, so slowly, Gordon began to understand. He learned out how to get rid of the audio, so no one could hear him tapping his feet against the cold tile. He learned how to unzoom the camera, then how to make it focus on him instead of the background wall.

Of course, he got bored going “Testing, testing.” over and over. He enjoyed repetition, sure. But he’d really prefer a good mouth click sound to this. Or a nice full-arm flap. He’d have to indulge later, for how his shoulders were still a bit sore from all of the rolling out of that Big Crab’s way. 

[He probably could’ve come up with a better, more dramatic name for Big Crab. Most of the names running through his head during the fight had been. Impolite. Big Crab was honestly the nicest.]

Point was, Gordon started playing around. Fingerspelling the alphabet while making silly faces. He pretended his other hand was his kindergarten teacher, who’d had no sense of humor. When the hand looked, he’d make  _ regular _ faces.

That one amused him for a few tests, but he did other things, too. Quoting movies he could remember, asking the camera  _ very seriously _ if they had  _ any _ connection to the killer.  **Even if you once saw his sister in the mall, I wanna hear about it, bub.**

You know, the same kind of nonsense he likes to say to people who can't understand sign. It was always fun to try and see if he could make Barney break, when he was “translating.” He’d put together polite sounding sentences full of simpering and offers to go  _ in depth _ about String Theory. Or, sir, do you want to know what Schrodinger's Cat  _ really _ means.

Barney got real good at makin shit up, as he’d like to put it. Made him better at poker, too.

That memory was a little bittersweet, but remembering the good times… It had to be better for his mental health than imagining the bad. 

Well, the camera was fully cooperating, it was time to do the final test. So, he sort of just let some feelings out. It was cathartic, and though it was unprofessional. Well, no one would see it.

He smiled for the camera, who had been so patient, one last time and went to click it off. 

When he sent it to his pad and viewed it over, it looked fine. No zooming issues, everything started and stopped when he expected.

So Gordon shrugged on his lab coat, fixed his hair back to something respectable after all the stress-tugging, got his face looking a little less red with a cool towel.

He was ready to go!

* * *

Gordon was feeling  _ out _ of it. He’d done the uhm. Commercial! For the drinking water, like. Twice? He forgot his words after he took the first sip, which was embarrassing. Hopefully the second time went better!

He couldn’t remember. 

So, he was so ready to collapse in bed, he sent Breen the top video on his pad thing. Top was most recent, probably? Yeahh. 

Was he forgetting a step? Nah, he was  _ GORDON FREEMAN. _ He didn’t forget steps, he saw. The next step.

“this is the water video.” Was the only caption he gave it. Breen would get J... Ju-Ju? To do the voice over, so it was more accessible, just like he was ‘posed to. Tha’d happen tomorrow, and he wouldn’t need to. Do anything else, right?

Yeah, Gordon was done.  _ Allll  _ done. 

* * *

Barney Calhoun couldn’t believe his eyes.

That was happening a lot recently, but  _ this was a doozy. _

When he’d been told there was a new Breencast, he’d been preparing for the worst, of course. Preparing for a piece where Gordon was specifically calling out the resistance, or advocated for police brutality. Something heinous. 

“He doesn’t look the same as last time.” Alyx had told him, and he thought it was a warning. That maybe he’d see Gordon beaten half to a pulp because Breen’d figured out he was actually a pretty alright guy.

But. No. 

Instead, there he was, Gordon Freeman. The way  _ Barney _ always saw him. No lab coat, no gloves, no eyeliner [he was sad to see that part go, after the first dozen watchings it’d started to grow on him]. 

His hair was doing its best to escape from his ponytail, and he wasn’t trying to stay still. 

Most importantly, the captions weren’t matching his words at all.

Supposedly he was just saying hello, but Gordon made mention of a camera. And then said something about a test?

He was smiling all the while. Truly, genuinely. 

It was beautiful.

Barney tore his gaze away from Gordon, who’s face had turned a little sad. “My mind must be playin tricks on me, how did  **this** get onto Breencast?”

Alyx shrugged, “No idea! But this is really what they put out. I don’t know much, but he’s not talking about water, right?” 

“He’s not. Get me something to write on?”

* * *

Barney felt like some sort of school teacher, standing in front of a whiteboard, about to do a presentation. Of course, a third of his class hadn’t showed up. Judith was late again, and none of the Vorts were attending.

He should probably be concerned about that. He’d find time to worry later.

“We all know what the subtitles say, on the newest Breencast.”

“My men have been calling it a Freecast, because it’s Freeman!” Cubbage interjected.

“Thanks, that’s important.” It wasn’t. “We all know the message.” He gestured to the whiteboard, where it was written word for word.

_ “Hello, I’m Gordon Freeman! Unfortunately, I’m here for an unhappy reason once again. _

__ _ I’ve heard that recently, some civilians have been refusing to drink water. It’s become a bit of a fad. _

_ I’m not a medical doctor, but I do know some things. Did you know that dehydration can cause confusion? It becomes harder to think, the longer you go without hydrating. You may become dizzy, faint, or go into shock. _

_ Please, don’t just follow the crowd. Think, and choose water. Drinking water is the responsible thing to do. Dr B-r-e-e-n’s Private Reserve is safe to drink, and tastes great! I’ll even take a sip! _

_ It certainly beats death, right? Remember, we only want the best for you. We’re here to help.” _

It was somewhat standard Breencast propaganda stuff. Veiled threats, pretending the masses were fools for not drinking brainwashing water, the usual.

“Now, if they’d just put out him saying  _ that _ , we wouldn’t be here. If we were talking about it, we might say something about how he still has some plausible deniability. He could still not know what it all means.” It was getting really hard not to give Cubbage a pointed look, you don’t just kill a man who hasn’t done anything wrong, “But, that’s not exactly what he said. Somehow, they put the wrong clip up.”

Barney flipped the board around. Didn’t take much effort, was one of the ones with wheels and two sides. It would be funny if he tried to do that to a wall mounted one, though. 

It was time to unofficially come out to his peers.    
  
“Here’s what he was really saying.” 

Barney cleared his throat, and read out Gordon’s words. Just like old times, he had to pretend he wasn’t getting gut punched and that this was all normal stuff.

_ “Hello, camera! I’m Gordon Freeman, and this should hopefully be the final test! I was just thinking about Barney, gay rights!”  _ Here was where Gordon flapped, at just the thought of the thought of Barney. Cute.

_ “It wasn’t actually that happy, though. Sometimes love can do that, it can make you sad. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t love. Still, I’ll have to figure out how to make my eyes less puffy after all this crying.”  _ His smile lost some of its light during this part. He wouldn’t realize it, but Barney had replicated it without thinking. 

_ “I miss him, but warning people to keep safe and stay hydrated is more important than my personal feelings, right? Dehydration is a horrible way to die!  _

_ I never thought I’d have such a platform for good, it’s sort of a dream come true. Now I guess it’s time for PSA About Water take 1!” _

He’d fallen back into using the same voice he always had, with Gordon. Higher and more energetic than his own, but not to an insulting degree. It’s just the vibe that man put off. Calm, stoic  _ seeming _ , but excitable. 

“So!” Barney continued in his regular voice, and hoped no one noticed. “Gordon thinks he’s helping people.”

“This is troubling in ways I didn’t expect.” Dr Vance scratched at the top of his head.

“Yes, Gordon would do just about anything to help people.” Dr Kleiner sighed, and it was clear he would prefer to be holding Lamarr again. For some reason. Instead, he was clasping his hands together. “This will make him a powerful adversary.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Alyx raised a hand.

He gestured to her, as if calling on her, “Yes, Miss Vance?”

“Are we going to gloss over the fact that he’s  _ in love with Barney?  _ That’s important, can’t we  _ use _ that?”

“My girl.” Kleiner shook his head, “The only new information there is that he cried over him recently. Barney and Gordon’s relationship was a bit of an open secret.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, still sort of embarrassed by how quick Kleiner of all people figured them out, “We tried to keep it a  _ closed _ secret, but becomin’ roommates made folks a little suspicious.”

Dr Vance was looking at him, a little too knowingly, “Didn’t you two get matching tattoos?”

Barney had no idea he’d heard about that one.  _ How would he even-? _

Eli winked, which was not super informative, but he got the sentiment. 

Barney glanced over at the monitors, Cubbage had been awfully quiet. Well, that turned out to be because he wasn’t there.

He turned back to the board, he wasn't deflecting. “Things we know from this.” He started writing, “Gordon Freeman thinks he’s doing good.”

“He thinks the water is safe.” Kleiner suggested. It was a good point, him thinking the water was safe would mean he would be  _ drinking _ it. 

Alyx still seemed wrapped up in the implications of Barney and Gordon dating. Probably thinking about some of his old stories about Gordon, but through the lens of Barney still being absolutely head over heels for that guy.

Somehow, those thoughts hurt a little less when he knew the guy was alive. It was easier when he had something to look at, to prove this wasn’t just another crush on Donald Duck.

He was also very glad that no one was alive to remember that phase of his life.

* * *

Barney’s time was usually split pretty evenly between shifts for the Combine and Resistance work. Measly self maintenance took up a smaller fraction. His main goals were to live and to not concern Alyx. Vance and Kleiner, too, but. Mostly Alyx.

She’d probably always known he was a walking disaster, but he tried to play it down around her. Keep his cool. Uncle Barney doesn’t show weakness, because if he did, she’d get it in her big brain that she should take care of herself instead of asking for help.

You know. Like he did.

He fully acknowledged that he was a hypocrite, but he could handle that. Wasn’t the worst thing he’d done by far. Also, Alyx was far more precious than he was.

She was young, resourceful, a certifiable genius… And, of course, emotionally important to the rest of the resistance. He, meanwhile? He was just a spy. You could always get another spy.

That wasn’t what he meant to think about. Currently, he was doing something he hadn’t indulged in for a  _ very _ long time. TV. His new favorite show to cry to alone in a dark room! 

The Gordon Propaganda Hour! Crowd cheering sfx and all that.

Barney was  _ usually _ glad he didn’t have a photographic memory. He’d seen a lot of horrifying things, more than he’d ever care to count. His brain was still attached to “ _ if you gave me a dollar for every time”  _ metaphors, despite how long it’d been since capitalism died. 

Thinking back, young Barney probably would’ve been excited if he told capitalism collapsed. Surprise! It’s just because the masses don’t get to own anything anymore!

Right now, though, Barney might consider it worth it. To have a photographic memory, he meant. Just as long as he always got to remember this. 

Gordon, as of a couple hours ago, thought that loving Barney was worth it. Despite it making him sad?

Did he know? Did Gordon know how long it’d been?

He paused the feed on a smile.

Things felt a bit hopeless right now,  _ when did they ever not feel hopeless _ , but. Gordon still cared. Even if it was only about the younger Barney he used to know. 

He’d never thought of himself as particularly handsome. Not back then, and not now. 

Gordon hadn’t ever cared. Gorgeous, beautiful, precious. Those were the words he’d always used.

Barney could never quite see what Gordon was. It was worse these days than back then. Now, all he could see when he looked at his own face was blood splattered on it. 

Was that a little much? Barney “Overdramatic” Calhoun? Yeah, maybe. But it was how he felt. 

Aside from the looming guilt, he was getting on in years. It was mid life crisis time, and Alyx knew it.

She'd insist he didn’t look that old, that the hair was flattering. The scar gave him character. She also grew up around Kleiner, who’d been an old man as long as anyone had known him.

He didn’t need to be lied to for a pick-me-up, kid. And he certainly wasn’t the man Gordon fell in love with.

Barney pressed play again.

For tonight, he would allow it. He’d sit here, growing his eyebags, and lightening his beer. Gordon loved him once, saw something wonderful in Barney Calhoun. For tonight, that’s what mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End scene inspired by a doodle by significantlylesschill on tumblr! Thanks for hurting me.
> 
> Okay so. Lore. The reason Gordon was so susceptible to brainwash juice [one of the NPCs in the first part of HL2 implies that Breen's Private Reserve messes with your memories] is because:
> 
> GORDON'S BODY IS A NIGHTMARE RIGHT NOW. You think any of his organs are handling this well? They're not. He was dehydrated and starved for a couple days, and filled with a drug he'd never taken before. You think his body can process anything else right now? Absolutely not. 
> 
> It's why you shouldn't drink on certain medications, same principal. I think. Please don't quote me on that.
> 
> But, yup, that's right! Gordon did not figure out the Breencasts aren't accessible this time! He was too busy thinking about glasses and Barney. Can you blame him?
> 
> Also next time on Gordon Fuckin It Up: Breen realizes he's been bamboozled! How will he react! [Probably kindly and understandingly, that's what I'm putting my money on.]


	5. Gordon Gets New Glasses!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! There is violence in this chapter! Also Barney doesn't make any appearances, which sucks, I'm sorry. I'll do better next time.
> 
> Also if you can think of a name for this story, please suggest it. I made it "Gordon in Breen's Office What Propaganda Will He Make" as a placeholder. this is 10k words I don't have anything better.

This was literally the rudest awakening Gordon ever had. You couldn’t get much ruder than being dragged out of bed by faceless people. It wasn’t that he couldn’t see them, he was wearing his glasses for some reason, just that their masks made them just as anonymous as every other damn guard in this place.

He was usually pretty analytical when it came to dangerous situations, but he also usually had time to think. To plan. He went from asleep to in danger. Instinct kicked in, and all he could think about was getting  _ AWAY! _

A well placed kick had one of them letting go of his arm, and instead of taking the opportunity to snag a weapon, the basic fear driven part of his brain just screamed  **RUN!**

So he did! Until the other one tackled him.

All of the air was knocked out of him, and his glasses snapped on contact with the ground. Luckily, they didn’t actually shatter and get in his eye. Thank goodness for new fangled plastic lenses, even if they didn’t clean as easy. 

Gordon wasn’t thinking about that right now, what he  _ was _ thinking about was getting out from under this guy. His thrashing was ineffective, however. All of that padding wasn’t for nothing, and it wasn’t long until the other guy recovered. Angrier than before.

Yeah, being kicked by reinforced boots hurt _quite a lot_ without the HEV suit. They kept going until he heard something snap, something from  _ himself _ snap, and there went any thoughts of running. Not without his suit holding everything in place where it was supposed to be, if he escaped to some sort of healing station now he’d probably heal whatever-just-broke incorrectly.

Then one of them stepped on his hand. It was unnecessary, it was incredibly painful, and it was  _ horrifying. _

When they hauled him up by his shoulders, he just hung limp.

His chest was radiating pain, throbbing and burning and stabbing and, so the snap was probably a rib. He was trying to focus on that and not on his hand, which hurt worse. He didn’t want to think about why his hand hurt worse.

This was all familiar in a way he VERY MUCH didn’t like. Dragged around, less conscious than he’d like to be.

Didn’t even have a crowbar to lose.

This time, he did pay attention to the hallways, blurry as they were with his glasses now off. Left, right, pass two entrances. Right, and another three passed. Something to think about. 

His good hand was awfully close to that one’s holster- Gordon was considering it. He didn’t want his hand to heal wrong, he needed full range of movement to communicate. But he didn’t want to die, either.

Maybe he  _ should’ve _ been a medical doctor, so that he knew literally  **anything** about all these injuries he’d been getting. Sorry, mother, maybe you had a point once in your life.

They didn’t pass any med kits, Gordon didn’t get the chance to attempt to make the hardest decision of his life. Instead they turned one final time and dragged him into Breen’s office. 

Of course it was Breen’s office. Wouldn’t it be quite a shock to G-Man if he died exactly where he’d been dropped off? It would serve him right.

“Mr Freeman.” Breen wasn’t happy to see him, but that was mutual.

He was hauled up by his shoulders, and turned to face him. He had a couple swear words prepared, his rib didn’t like any of that, and his hand got uncomfortably brushed against one of their uniforms.

“Did you  _ really _ think your little. Deception. Would slip past us?”

Dr Breen was sitting at his desk, and the lighting was somehow more ominous than usual, though that might just be how few details he could make out of his face. Dr Breen’s hands were arched in front of him, and it was very, very easy to tell he was irritated. 

Dr Judith stood behind him. He couldn’t make out her expression.

How was he supposed to  _ respond? _

So, they just forced him to fingerspell an entire response, or maybe for the rest of his life. This was Hell, at some point Gordon had died and hadn’t noticed and now he was in Hell. “W-H-A-T?” 

“He said what, Dr Breen.”

“What do you mean  _ what? _ I saw your little trick. That video wasn’t following our script in the slightest.” He clicked a button and one of the screens behind Breen, the biggest one, illuminated with Gordon’s own face. He thought it was, anyway. Mostly all he could see from this distance was the colors. He was nearsighted. Also maybe tearing up a bit.

“You were trying to communicate with the Rebellion, weren’t you?” The word Rebellion was spit out, as if it was a piece of plastic found in a Taco Bell beans and rice. “I trust you, allow you into my organization  _ once again _ and  _ THIS? _ ” He violently gestured to the screen.

Gordon couldn’t see much, truly. Brown for his hair, lighter brown for his skin, orange… He didn’t see any black from his gloves. Which must mean he wasn’t wearing them, which must mean.  _ Oh fuck. _ He wasn’t wearing them during  _ any of his camera tests. _

“IS HOW YOU  _ REPAY _ ME?”

He would have to be very, very careful with his words if he wanted any chance of living. 

This was going to be painfully slow. “T-H-A-T I-S A C-A-M-E-R-A T-E-S-T.” Normally he wouldn’t be signing words like is and a, they weren’t necessary, but he did not want  _ anything _ lost in communication, dooming him.

This time, Judith was reading out his letters as he said them. He tried to ignore that, so he wouldn’t mess up and say the same letter she said. Like two people counting aloud at once. “I T-H-I-N-K I S-E-N-T T-H-E W-R-O-N-G V-I-D-E-O.”

There was silence.

“Judith, what is he saying in the video?” It sounded more like an order than a question, but most of the rage had drained from his voice. 

She walked over to the screens, and all Gordon could hear was his own small, shuddering breaths. It was kind of hard not to hyperventilate like this.

“He greeted the camera, he says this is the last test.” She turned back to Breen, “He’s telling the truth.”

Dr Breen made some sort of gesture, and Gordon was deposited into the chair across from him. A tear slipped down his cheek, thanks eyes. 

“Apologies, Mr Freeman.” One of the guards dusted off his shoulder, the other put what was left of his glasses back on his nose. One of the lenses had fallen out when the frame broke so it wasn’t ideal. His own image on the screen was easier to make out, at least. “With the makings of a perfect society in hand, there are those who work against us, you see? We must be careful and vigilant.”

Lots of retorts he  _ could _ say went through Gordon’s head.  _ Oh, no problem, I never liked that hand _ , for example. 

He was still in a lot of danger, however. 

Gordon put on the best smile he could manage, it probably was more convincing as a grimace though, “I U-N-D-E-”

“I think typing would be faster.” Breen slid his pad across the desk, because for obvious reasons, Gordon hadn’t brought his own.   
  
“I understand.” He typed, despite the fact that he didn’t actually get it. He  _ didn’t _ understand how someone could be so militant. Even if he  _ was _ a spy, sending messages to a rebellion. [Speaking of, there was a rebellion? There had been no mention of this before.]

Dissent is important for progress. Also, this was his first strike. 

He continued typing, which was yet another thing slowed by only using the one hand. Thank the heavens for ambidexterity. “You would’ve caught any secret messages when you got Dr Judith to do the voice over, right? There’s nothing to fear from me.”   
  
Gordon held up the pad, and Judith took it, handing it back to Breen. Wow, they were really all using their doctorates here tonight.

“Mr Freeman, Judith doesn’t do a voice over.”

He was handed the pad back. Okay, he couldn’t be accusatory. He, again, wanted to live. “How do the civilians understand me?”

Before, Gordon just assumed the accessibility was taken care of. Makings of a utopia  _ implied  _ that though there were things to be improved, things were good for the most part. Including for folks with disabilities. 

He’d just had his rib and perhaps some of the bones in his hand broken for a single mistake. He shouldn’t have made assumptions. 

“It’s subtitled, Mr Freeman.” Judith supplied, she was smiling, and he could understand now her outward subdued nature. 

He nodded once, as if that was fine. It wasn’t. Subtitles were only accessible for folks who were literate and had good vision. He… Didn’t want to die.

A month ago, Gordon wouldn’t have been able to believe he’d fall this far.

* * *

The rest of that meeting, if it could be called that, was fairly awkward. Gordon attempted to pretend that his entire trust for Dr Breen hadn’t been shattered, that he was just in  _ some _ pain. It hopefully worked. 

Turns out Breen didn’t have much business for him other than punishment.

A medical professional saw to his injuries. They were gentle, but they didn’t ask questions.

Everything was set properly, and rapidly healed. He’d had two broken bones in his hand, a fractured rib [he’d been overestimating how bad that one was, apparently] and a couple Minor Lacerations™. Nothing that medical magic couldn’t take care of in 48 hours or less, apparently!

Apparently, Gordon’s glasses went and scratched his nose when they’d broken. It turns out he’d had blood dripping down his face the entire time and hadn’t noticed.

His sweater was replaced.

He was also issued glasses, as soon as they were made. They were a newer prescription, but a similar style. Maybe slightly more square than his old ones? It didn’t matter. 

Gordon was back in his “room”. 

He wasn’t sure how he didn’t see it before, he was basically a prisoner. In a room with one exit guarded by armed guards, and a window with a drop so extreme he’d just be a splatter. Gordon Splatman. 

Dang, why had that never come up during paintball?!

Everything he’d been told so far was up for question. Any amount of time could’ve passed, for instance. He had no proof it had been 20 years.

Now he’d just have to only believe what he had concrete evidence for. Like some sort of scientist that didn’t work primarily in the theoretical. Damn it.

Gordon would  _ like _ to make a chart, or a spreadsheet maybe, of what he did and didn’t know to be real. He didn’t have paper, though, just the pad. Thinking on it, there was no reason to think that all of his activity wasn’t monitored. In here and on the device. 

There was one thing he could think to test right now that he could probably get away with.

_ Does the water taste of minerals? _

Short, simple, easy to understand. Hard to gauge the exact meaning of, for an outsider.

His hypothesis: the water made him forget last night. If he couldn’t remember the taste of the Private Reserve, then he could assume it unsafe and go back to only drinking from the tap. 

This thought was the last thing he remembered before waking up the next day. He’d been on the floor. Which was another sign that the water was bad. It was also impressive, because he did his experiment around midday.

But, he  _ didn’t _ remember if the water tasted of minerals! He should drink another can! [That was a joke, he was joking with himself so that he could smile a little.]

Luckily, he did have a couple other speeches he could get out of the way, so he wouldn’t be  _ murdered _ , as he considered the morality of knowingly lying to the general public. 

During the Black Mesa incident, his moral compass had shattered and now he was using the metal directional needle inside to stab someone. Metaphorically.

Despite how many Things he’d killed, he was a  _ vegetarian damn it _ , he hadn’t actually stabbed anything. 

This wasn't the point, none of this was the point. What was important was getting some “Welcome to City Named After a Number!” speeches done. Be a little useful, decide how much of your soul you’re willing to part with.

If his arms were still sore, he ignored it. He just tried to put on a happy face to “greet” new residents. He could pretend. He’d pretended he hadn't been in love with Barney, once. This couldn't possibly be harder than that.

* * *

Doctor Mossman’s translation of Gordon Freeman’s  _ mistake _ was enlightening.

Before this, they’d had Mr Freeman  _ fully _ convinced. Now, however, because of his own oversight, Wallace would have to improvise.

The very same video had the answer. Barney. The one he loved was named Barney.

All Wallace had to do was find out if this  _ Barney _ survived. No matter the result, he had an option. 

If he did and was loyal, he could be used to  _ reconvince _ Mr Freeman. 

If he wasn’t? That could be changed.

If he was missing, with the rest of the dead of Black Mesa, it would be simple enough to forge a story of how he died at the Resistance's hands. Create some evidence, and mournfully bring it to Freeman. It would either bring him over to their side, or help in breaking his spirit.

Mr Freeman had the capability to be difficult, but with the right measures? He was a powerful asset. Wallace wouldn’t be giving him up easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gordon finally puts 567 and 567 together to make 1134 and realize that the Combine is BAD! Whoopsie!
> 
> ... Do fractured bones make snapping sounds? If they don't then Gordon has special bones, okay.


	6. Barney Feels Uneasy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I'd do better on the Barney, and I followed through! Look at this, the WHOLE THING is Barney!
> 
> In other news, this is embarrassing. I wrote a scene based off this art that someone from the discord server [g-d every time you draw something I die, my friend] drew! Apparently they based it off of A SCENE I /ALREADY/ WROTE? This feels like a chicken egg situation, because now there are TWO scenes that are related to this art. Haha WHOOPSIE.
> 
> https://coolatta-not-bahama.tumblr.com/post/624203670086664192
> 
> Please do look at it! 
> 
> I can't wait until I write a fic where a character has watched The Love Bug made for TV Movie so that I can write a rant about Horace the Hate Bug. I have so many feelings about Horace the Hate Bug.

Barney and Alyx were just at the train station after-hours, looking for luggage taken from the poor passengers to Nova Prospekt. They wouldn’t need this stuff anymore.

He knew it was a distraction. Gordon hadn’t made a new broadcast in two days, and after his last one being so clearly a mistake... Well, he’d been pacing. He didn’t mind some fresh air, even if he saw through everyone’s intentions.

Barney wasn’t wearing his CP mask, but he had it with him. If someone else showed up, he’d pretend to apprehend Alyx. They had a whole routine planned with convincing protests from her, and convincing threats from him. Only used it once, but it’d worked. Worked way better than improv, she had trouble not laughing when he said something he hadn’t thought through.

Alyx brought him out of thoughts, “Hey Barney? You need to look in here.” They were in a back storeroom right now, and she was peering into an old dresser. It was nice quality, he could understand why they’d keep it for storage.

He literally could not believe his eyes.

She met his gaze, “I don’t think any of them match.”

In the middle drawer were socks. Not just a couple, but what must be  _ dozens.  _ Different colors, different sizes. Some of them were the kinds with the toes [ew], others were  _ baby _ sized. Those hadn’t been in production in forever. 

“This _can’t_ be right.” He picked one up, bright red and Christmas themed, held it to his nose. Morbidly curious. “Well, Santa smells clean.”

She laughed, “Gross, B!” 

“You bet.” There was no argument he could give to justify his actions. He put it back, “Are all of them socks?”

She shook her head. The Socks Drawer was closed and the one under it was pulled open, “That’s the thing! This one has regular stuff. Pen, beanie, watch.” She pointed at each item in turn. 

He grabbed something that caught his eye. A lovely pink ring box… “Ah, man. Stuff like this always makes me feel bad.” Sure enough, there was a beautiful, expensive looking ring inside. The kind that would’ve fetched a pretty penny if, you know. Pennies still had any worth other than as raw copper.

“It’s a nice ring, but I don’t get it.” 

Ah, yeah. She’d never finished any romcoms they’d scrounged up, too busy hating them. She probably didn’t know the tradition. “Alright,  _ Back in My Day.”  _ He said it in his old man voice. Always made her laugh as a kid, but these days he just got a small smile. “When you really liked someone, you’d get down on one knee and propose marriage.”

“On one knee?” She crossed her arms. Sometimes this happened, because he’d made the mistake of pulling her legs a couple too many times. 

“On one knee.” He got down on one knee,  _ oogh bad idea. _ Barney Calhoun lived on his one knee now. “Young people usually, this  _ sucks. _ ”

“What does this have to do with the ring?” Alyx was still very thoroughly unconvinced.

“If I were a young Romeo, I’d be down here, saying you were the most handsome person I’d ever known, and that I adored ya romantically, you know?” He pulled out the box, “You’d already know what’s up, then I open the box to show that I spent a month’s paycheck on you for some rock.”

She rolled her eyes. “I almost believed you there, but no one would spend that much on  _ jewelry _ .” 

“Oh, believe me, I did! It was a stupid system, but I did. Worst part was you were just guessing about ring sizes. What if I opened it up for him, he said yes, put it on, and it didn’t fit?”

“Resize it in a forge.” She said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Yeah, I guess I would’ve had to.” He responded, as if regular people used forges in the Before Times. “... Would you help me up?”

It was good she was so strong, from all the metal scavenging she did. Otherwise, he’d probably be a permanent fixture of this floor. 

They went back to stuffing their satchells with things they could use. Alyx took an alarming amount of socks, claiming D0G’s padding was getting worn out and he was getting pokey to sleep on again. A couple timepieces came with, and a hand operated egg beater. Truly, people brought the strangest things with them.

Subtlety was something they aimed for. If they took everything from a drawer or suitcase, it’d be pretty clear there was a security breach. No one would be happy.

“... So, the ring you bought for Gordon.”

Oh fuck, right. She was smart. Poker face, Barney. Poker face. 

“Yeah?” He pretended to examine a pair of suspenders from the suitcase he was now digging through.

“Tell me about it.”

Dang, he couldn’t deflect a  _ tell me about it. _ Or, he maybe could, but she'd just helped him off the floor. She could put him back there. “It wasn’t anythin too special. Gold band with opal.” 

“What’s opal?” He glanced over, and she was examining a knitting needle. Just the one.

“Oh, it’s this rock. Known for its uh… Color fun? No, that’s not it. Color… Somethin else. It’s been awhile.” He’d never been a big Rocks and Minerals guy, “Just meant it looked different when light shone on it. I thought Gordon’d appreciate that. Probably explain to me how it happens, too!” 

What he would never admit was that it was a brownish one, with greenish/blueish color frolick. That still wasn’t it. Kinda like his eye. It was too sappy for anyone to know, he’d been calling Gordon’s eyes emeralds for so long he thought maybe he’d like having something to compare Barney’s to.

“That’s really nice. So, like, why rocks?” 

He shrugged and put a headband in his bag. Hopefully she didn’t see it, her birthday was coming up. She’d really been enjoying his hand-me-down for awhile now. “Hell if I know!”

Soon enough, they were headed back out. This time they didn’t go out the window. That was where the CP dumped the bodies when an interrogation went a little too… Well, he knew one had today, and he really didn’t have the ability to handle that.

They were walking from one end of the station to the other when suddenly, a light came on. Instinct had him whipping around, baton ready for a Threat.

It would’ve been simpler if it was just a headcrab.

There, on the big screen, was the face. The face he’d been missing, the face he’d been  _ worrying _ about. For a moment, big blue letters covered it.  **TESTING** , they declared.

Gordon was smiling widely, unconvincingly.  _ “Welcome to City 17, I’m Doctor Gordon Freeman.”  _

Barney was taking in every detail. He had a new sweater, it was less neon than the old one. His glasses were different. All of that was fine, that could be excused.

_ “Whether you’re passing through, or coming to live here, I hope you’ll enjoy your stay. I have so far. Please listen to instructions given to you by Civil Protection and you’ll be on your way in no time.”  _

The thing that really struck fear into Barney’s heart was how stiffly he was moving, how robotically. It was so forced, so out of character. More importantly, it reminded Barney of how he himself moved when his bad leg was acting up.

_ “We’re here to help.”  _

Wait just a fucking minute. It looped, and Barney waited to see it again, teeth grit. His eyes must’ve been playing tricks on him.

Sign language was subtle, and he didn’t want to be right. If his eyes weren’t mistaken, at the very last moment, Gordon had switched from saying he’d be  _ giving _ help to saying he was  _ receiving _ help. With that same, awful, untrue smile.

He didn’t catch Alyx’s worried look, and he wasn’t paying attention to his own anguished expression. He only had one thought.

_ What had they done to him? _

* * *

He was going to die of stress. 

Barney hadn’t seen a medical doctor in a very long time, but the way his chest felt made it  _ super _ obvious that this was killing him. His blood was 100% pressure. 

As soon as he’d gotten to his post, he’d been alerted that he was expected at the Citadel. Immediately.

Thing was, he couldn’t think of anything he’d done to blow his cover. Nothing new, anyway. When he was told to do something, he snapped to it. 

Barney was always so  _ careful _ . He knew if they started paying attention, they might realize he didn’t use his own apartment much. That he only harassed one person a day. That he hadn’t ever killed a civilian on the job.

He was glad he and Gordon didn’t go for the “cops are bad” tattoo design that they’d been joking about. That would really uh. Be ironic. 

Point was, he had no clue what was up. Maybe the Combine’d been getting more paranoid? He sure had been.

Something snagged him, and pulled him into an alley. Huge and _hulking, capable of_ _**_crushing_** - _

Oh. D0G needed to learn a little discretion. 

One of his hands went to his chest, he could not HANDLE this, “You’re just… Whew... Lucky I didn’t scream, D0G.” They nuzzled him when he offered a hand.

“I’ve got somewhere to be, alright? They want me at the Citadel.” The sound they made was full of concern. D0G cocked their head and pulled him closer, protectively. “I know, I’m scared too. They barely gave me enough time to  _ get _ there, I can’t risk detours. Could you go tell Vance? He’ll know how to break it to Alyx.”

He was just hoping it wasn’t anything too bad to break, that he’d come back out getting told that, say. Gordon needed to couch surf for awhile. 

Yeah, no. 

D0G still had him wrapped up in one of those big, recently re-padded limbs. He pushed against it, both hands. He didn’t stand a chance against the big lug, but it was the show that counted. “The longer I’m here, the more trouble I’m in, Puppy.”

That did it.

“I’ll be fine.” He reassured them with one last pat. Really wish he meant it.

* * *

Barney was the perfect picture of stoicism. Gave the door guards his ID number and he was escorted to. Somewhere. His spine was as straight as it’d ever been, arms crossed properly behind his back. His eyes, safely hidden behind his mask, were taking in as much as they could.

None of the Resistance members had ever managed to get into the Citadel and back out alive, they knew basically nothing about this place other than it was bad news.

Elevator, hallway. Elevator, hallway, hallway. Elevator, and then right into another elevator across the hall. They were really going pretty high up-

Oh. Oh fuck. They had the _Overwatch_ _Elite up here._ Whatever was up here was important, or dangerous, or both. 

He stepped off the elevator, so careful not to freeze up. They removed his baton and gun. He didn’t resist, he didn’t break his cover.

There was always the knife in his boot, he tried to reassure himself. Not that a knife would do much against all that padding. 

It didn’t seem like  _ that _ much unless you knew what was underneath. Which he did, unfortunately. Eugh.

Then he stepped through the door, and he realized just how bad a situation he was in. Dr Wallace Breen, bastard of the year for 20 and counting, was sitting calmly behind a desk. Surrounded by monitors lit up Combine blue, and even more guards.

“Ah, hello. I’ve been expecting you, Mr Calhoun.” He leaned back in his chair, “There are some questions we would like you to answer.”

“Yes, sir.” He said aloud as his inner monologue just became the words  _ oh _ and  _ fuck _ , repeated over any coherent thoughts he might rather be having.

“Take off your mask, this is a civil conversation.”

“Of course, sir.” He said, and gave himself a mental slap in the face. Blank face, blank tone. Don’t give yourself away, don’t give information away. He’d been training for this for  _ decades _ .

Barney took off his mask, and put on one he’d made himself. Cold neutralism. He wasn’t shaking, and he wasn’t afraid. Only one of those was a lie, but not being visibly shaking was a fucking stellar start.

“Come sit, Mr Calhoun.”

He did.

“It has come to my attention, recently, that I haven’t spent nearly enough time with former colleagues of mine.” He smiled, as if they’d been friends before. As if this was a meeting of friends who’d gotten caught up on life. “You used to be a Black Mesa Security Guard, correct?”

“That’s correct.” Nothing more, just what he asks for, Barney.

“Did you ever meet our dear friend, Mr Freeman? I’ve become fond of him as of late. An adequate public speaker.”

This was already going in all the wrong directions. He couldn’t exactly say he  _ didn’t _ know him. He didn’t know what they knew, no lies. “We were once roommates.”

“I see. Do you still care for him?”

The  _ oh fuck _ chior made a triumphant return. He curled his toes in his boot to try and steel himself. “My main loyalty is to our Benefactors, sir. I am pleased he has joined our side.”

“I feel similarly.” Breen sighed, but it was too  _ much _ to be anything but drama. “Recently I was a bit harsh with Mr Freeman, I’m afraid he might be getting  _ confused _ . That’s why I called you here.”

Harsh. HARSH? The man seemed almost broken on his recent broadcasts! He didn’t know how he was keeping up his mask, all of the muscles in his body were screaming at him to  **_lunge._ **

Luckily, Dr Breen didn’t need him to urge him on. “What I would like you to do for me, Mr Calhoun, is  _ personally _ guard Mr Freeman. Having a familiar face around to remind him how things  _ really _ are could be a benefit.”

What?

This halted all of his angry thoughts, if just for a moment. They wanted him to- He’d been staging elaborate jail break plans in his head every night before he slept and they were just gonna give him  _ access? _ Well, he wouldn’t complain about that. Of course, knowing Gordon was probably being kept at the Citadel. Whew boy. “That makes sense, sir.”

“Now, we can’t be playing all of our cards immediately. For now, just guard him. If he shows any sign of doubt in our cause, make yourself known and convince him.”

“I will, sir.” 

“You may leave now, Mr Calhoun.” He was given a fake smile for his trouble. “You’ll be given your new schedule shortly. That will be all.”

Barney clicked his mask back on, stood up, turned, and exited back to where he came. He heard the field in front of the door fizzle back on.

His weapons were put back in their places, and he was handed a blue tech pad.

He held it up to his face, it wasn’t proper for him to slouch, he couldn’t show  _ weakness _ , and sure enough. There was his schedule.

Barney was due to guard Gordon in 30 minutes, which definitely wasn’t enough time to actually get a message to the Resistance. 

This was going to be a  _ very _ long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Folks who I asked voted for more yearning rather than less, so strap in. Hopefully I don't go too overboard.
> 
> Also, should I tag this as slow burn? We're 6 chapters 13000 words in and the main leads haven't talked to each other yet. 
> 
> Don't forget to check out http://thefreecast.tumblr.com/ ! Same AU, different Gordons! Mike's is much more put together than mine.


	7. Knife Play, PA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't Bring Me Down finally lost its dang magic! Sign my petition to sue ELO for not putting enough juice in their song to sustain me for a full week.
> 
> Joking aside, hope you like this one! Doin my best!

Today, Alyx had been spending time with the Vorts, learning a bit about cooking. Things were surprisingly slow recently, despite how more complex they’d gotten. The evacuation of Resistance members to Black Mesa East was done during shift change. Other than that, it was getting folks settled and tending to malnutrition. 

She’d just moved up from washing vegetables and peeling potatoes! Next step, cutting a root veggie. Simple.

“The Alyx Vance would do well to not hold the vegetables as she slices and dices them.”

Okay, so apparently you could fuck up cutting a carrot. She wasn’t here learning because she was  _ good _ at it. “What am I supposed to do, then?”

“The countertop is a suitable surface, it has maintained many slashes.” Despite their words, the stone countertop looked pristine. Maybe that was a sign that it was knife-proof? 

She put down the carrot and went to slice it again, when the one wearing a bright pink Kiss the Cook apron held up a hand to stop her. “Let us instruct you in the proper methods, so that The Alyx Vance may keep her  _ fingers. _ ”

They wiggled their fingers for emphasis, and she shorted. “What, this stew  _ isn’t _ supposed to be blood flavor?”

“It is not.” The other one, wearing a very tall hat confirmed. They were currently whisking something, with a whisk. 

What she expected was to be shown some sort of  _ proper cutting posture _ that was  _ passed down through the generations. _ Instead, the Kissable Chef stabbed the carrot with a fork and gestured that she should take it by the handle. “Now it will stay steady under you, like the planet beneath.”

“This works.” She started chopping, and, soon enough, she was on to her second carrot. Look at her go! No one was, they were doing their own thing, but they SHOULD! 

Alyx settled into a simple rhythm, slicing a carrot and then putting the definitely edible parts and maybe edible parts into different bowls. It was easy to hum along with the Vorts, but her thoughts began to wander.

“Hey, do any of you know where to find some high quality rocks?” She asked. Neither of them made a thinking hmmm as they gathered words, so she elaborated, “Apparently humans used to prize crystals for their beauty? I’m not looking for diamonds or anything like that, I need something pretty for a personal project.”

Diamonds they had around, they were good for cutting stuff but they were kinda plain looking. Just clear, usually. Who would want  _ those? _

_ Now _ they hummed. “It is most interesting that you would inquire about crystals. It is about crystals that I know much.” She glanced over, and it was the one in the Big Hat that answered. “The last place in which we resided contained crystals of great power. It was the study of them that brought our worlds together, and that joined us with The Freeman.”

Alyx popped a slice of carrot into her mouth, and thought as she chewed. “Those might have the opposite effect, then. What color are they, usually?”

“They all glow with the beauty of your Sun.”

Yellow or orange, then. “Okay, so I’m looking for something other than that.”

“We will provide assistance on your quest if you desire it, The Alyx Vance.” Hat one said, as she finished slicing up her last carrot. “It is clear you are quite willing to help us with our own.”

“Always. Now, am I supposed to throw any of this out?”

The Kissable One shook their head, “All parts of your Earthly root vegetable are edible to those such as yourself, though they serve different purposes.”

“Nothing wasted, nice.” They took them and scraped the orange part and green parts into their own bowls, which she totally could’ve done. “Is there anything else I can do around here?”

“First, The Alyx Vance must be properly attired.” They placed the carrot parts down, and reached for something in a cabinet. “Close your visual devices, this is not to be known yet.”

So she humored them, and closed her eyes. Something was placed on her head.

“The Alyx Vance is now a proper Sous Chef, as according to Human custom.” She opened em back up, the one with the hat had stopped their whisking to hold up a reflective surface. Sure enough, she was wearing her own hat! It looked different from theirs, but that must be the sous part.

Alyx couldn’t help but smile, “Thanks, guys!” 

The elevator shaft rattled with use, it always did, which gave her plenty of time to turn and face whoever it was. She still held the knife, just in case she needed to use it, but security was pretty good in here.

It was her dad, but he looked grim. She kept on her smile, just in case that was something else eating away at him. That she was still supposed to ignore, because she was still his baby, and somehow not capable emotional support for him.

“Hey, honey.” He put on a tired smile, the kind that he used to greet her with every day during the very beginning. “D0G brought us some bad news.”

The Vorts came to stand next to her. If the knife was squeezed a little tighter in her hand, sue her. 

“What is it The D0G has conveyed?” Prompted one of them. She was too busy searching Dad’s face for the seriousness of the situation to check which one had spoke.

He put a hand on her shoulder.  _ Oh no. _ That was never good, not with that face. “Barney was called into the Citadel today.”

Alyx was only vaguely aware that her knife was taken away before she was pulled into a deep, squeezing hug by her dad, two Vort hands placed reassuringly on her back.

No one had to tell her the implications of that. She’d lost a lot of friends, too many friends. Alyx always made it a mission to live in the moment, to care about people while you had them. It helped not taint good moments with bad feelings, but it always left her heart _woefully_ unprepared for moments like this.

She had a support system, she was so lucky to have her dad’s shoulder to cry into right now. She just kinda wished she’d stop getting new reasons to.

Later, she’d sharpen knives and boil water, but right now, she'd mourn.

* * *

Gordon couldn’t focus on his Sudoku. He’d  _ like _ to, he needed a moment where he wasn’t worrying please. Not happening, though. In Black Mesa, he didn’t get breaks, really. He’d scrounge up moments to rest so his body would keep moving when it mattered.

No time to think back then, though.

His Pad notified him he’d received a message, from Breen. It read, _ Mr Freeman, Judith has been busy as of late. To make up for it, you’ll be getting a personal assistant. Feel free to ask him questions or enlist his help with your broadcasts. He’ll arrive within the hour. _

Gordon shoved the anxiety down, somehow almost dying over and over had helped with that, and responded simply.  _ Thank you. Can he read sign? _

He waited, but there was never anything back. He could rationalize it, Breen was busy with something big. Maybe he’d somehow forgotten to screen for that. Those were the better options.

His fears were all but confirmed when someone in a deep green padded uniform came in, unexpectedly. Gordon found himself scooched all the way to the back of his bed, smiling nervously. 

The clothes they were wearing weren’t too different from all of the guards he’d seen so far, but the eye holes weren’t glowing. Also, again, green. They weren’t actually that tall, but they were bulky in a way that probably spoke to strength. 

Maybe this was what everyone wore these days, he tried. The anxiety rolled its eyes at that.

“Are you my personal assistant? Dr B said I may be getting one.” He asked, trying to make sure he looked  _ not _ scared out of his mind about someone  _ with a gun and big stick _ being  _ here in his room with him where there was no way out. _

They just stared at him, frozen. Damn it. 

“Can’t understand me, that’s okay. I’m used to that. One moment.” He then kept one finger up as he began to type on his pad. 

The PA cleared his throat. When he had Gordon’s attention again, he raised his hands and signs. “Hello, Doctor Gordon Freeman.” His movements are stiff, but recognizable. Then, out loud and through a horrendous voice filter, he says, “ _ I’m rusty. _ ”

Gordon’s brain makes a terrible decision. “Hi rusty, I’m dad.” Luckily, he doesn’t get shot for it! In fact, he would bet money that sound the PA just made was a snort of laughter.

Well, this might not be  _ so _ bad.

* * *

There was something so intoxicating, but so awful, about being around Gordon again. He’d been afraid at first, clearly, but. Once Barney hadn’t done anything to overtly threaten him he seemed to relax.

This was messing with him, it was so hard not to just grab him, wrap him up in a hug and _ never let go _ . 

Whenever Gordon asked him something, he’d freeze up.  _ You’re here getting information, Calhoun.  _ He’d remind himself.  _ You don’t know if you’re bugged, you can’t admit you love him, Calhoun. _

After a very awkward exchange where Gordon asked his name and he had no idea how to answer, and Gordon proceeding to admit he really didn’t have anything for him to  _ do _ , they’d settled into an easy silence. Gordon on the bed, Barney in the desk’s chair. It was kind of small, but he didn’t mind.

He was pretending to read one of the horrible propaganda books that came from the shelf, but really he was Gordon watching. There he was, wrapped up in a blanket like there was a storm outside. His hair was down, and Barney was itching to refamiliarize himself with the texture. 

It hurt to have him be just right there. Just  _ right there _ . He tried not to focus on everything he wanted, everything he was yearning for. Tried to focus on how domestic this scene almost was, tried to rationalize it for his stupid gay brain like that. He didn’t need to go tell Gordon he loved him until those were the only words either of them could think, because this was a  _ normal domestic scene _ in their  _ normal domestic life _ and he already knew.

Then Gordon went and made things worse by reaching for a can of Dr Breen’s. Something snapped, and in one fluid motion, Barney pulled out his baton and knocked the can out of Gordon’s hand. 

Before he knew what was happening, the baton had traded hands, Gordon sprung to his feet. He was so unprepared for Gordon raising a hand to him, he didn’t brace himself at all before he was violently knocked off the chair and to the floor. 

Okay, well now his head smarted.

He was pinned down by Gordon’s foot, and stood over with the business end of that thing pointed at him. Then the switch that flipped on the electricity was found.

“ _ I’m sorry!” _ He didn’t even move his hands to raise them in surrender, he knew any movement was a threat, _ “The water isn’t good.” _

Barney had went and forgotten. As far as he could tell, Gordon had  _ just _ gotten out of Black Mesa. He remembered what that did to a man, how he’d gotten to  _ survive. _

He could see it now, in his eyes. He’d been that desperate once, before it’d evened off into a simple and constant dread. 

Gordon blinked once, as if he just heard him. “ _ The water is bad, Gordon.” _ He said again, and the electricity was flicked back off.

The baton was dropped, and he couldn’t read his expression. “It’s tap water. I’ve been refilling it with tap water.”

“ _ Oh.” _ He hadn’t been giving Gordon enough credit, of course he would’ve noticed. He was a bit of a tee-totaler because he didn’t like the way he felt when anything messed with his mental state. Of course he’d notice  _ brainwash water. _

Gordon backed off, and Barney slowly, very slowly, got up. 

They stood across from each other, silent again. This time it wasn’t as comfortable. “I’m not supposed to know about the water.”

His expression suggested it was a question, a question of Barney’s own motives. He wanted to admit things now, but he still didn’t know if he was being listened to. So he took off his gloves. It was difficult, they weren’t designed to come off easy, but it would be so much easier to sign with them off. They were discarded near the baton.

“I work for you, not for B-R-E-E-N.” It was a hint of loyalty he could give, just a small allusion to how it really was. “We may be bugged.”

Gordon nodded. “Maybe.”

“I don’t think I have any cameras on my body. C-O-M-B-I-N-E surveillance is obvious.” Barney hadn’t been communicating with many folks through ASL recently, just a couple here or there. A few more since the teleporters got up and running, but no one had come up with signs for a lot of the important words. Oops.

Gordon spelled it back, looking down at his own hands. Memorizing it.

Barney took a deep breath, and made a decision. “Tomorrow, I’ll give you answers.” 

Tomorrow, he’d know if he’d been bugged today. If Breen heard him declare that the water was bad, he’d probably wanna bring that up. Tomorrow, he’d know if he’d fucked up. 

“I can wait.”

Gordon wouldn’t know it, but those were the exact kind of words Barney wanted to see. 

They settled back in their spots, this time with Barney’s gun and baton on the side table next to Gordon, and conspired parallel about the kinds of things they’d say and ask tomorrow, if they just got the chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7 Chapters In and they finally see each other in person! Yeah I'm tagging this as slowburn.
> 
> In other news, look! https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/377693747145736193/736970614857793596/IMG_20200726_053905.jpg Sneak peak at a project I'm making!
> 
> It's nearly done, and it's gonna be a tiny useless pillow >:] 
> 
> Original pattern by shitpostsampler on tumblr.


	8. D0G is like a Cup. Holds Me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I cursed myself by making the working title Tomorrow. That's one way to make the Universe conspire to delay you!
> 
> Actually, I just got burnt out. And got started on something new... I've done things like set up my Wii and then play Lots of Pokepark. When writing is hard... 
> 
> Don't, I guess!

A meeting was called as quickly as possible, maybe even faster.

Issac and Judith broadcast from his lab, a Vortigant was reporting for NLO, Alyx and Eli reported for Black Mesa East, and for the first time White Forest had visual representation and wasn’t just listening in. For better or for worse.

White Forest getting video _seemed_ like a good idea when they’d started on talks of widening the teleportation array, but… Magnusson was starting to make her suspect it’d end up with an error soon. 

Technically, they didn’t _need_ Alyx here. Dad was the one with the information. He could man the connection perfectly well, especially with D0G’s help. Technically, though, they didn’t _need_ her in a lot of meetings. It was better than worrying from the kitchen, anyway.

“That’s all we know. It’s been an hour, and we haven’t had any other word from Barney, yet.” Dad concluded. “Thank you for the help, D0G.”

Released of obligations, D0G immediately came over and scooped her up like she was Lamarr. She didn’t have any objections.

“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” Magnusson didn’t sneer, but he might as well have, “Mr Calhoun _was_ valuable, but the Resistance will continue on without him!” 

If he was in the room, D0G would’ve had to hold her back. As it was, she didn’t wanna ruin a perfectly good screen. 

Her emotions were coming quick and easy today. D0G squeezed just a little tighter, which helped. Barney had been gone an _hour!_ He was _already_ just? Giving up?

She almost missed it when Dad responded. “Dr Magnusson. We have no confirmation he’s gone or switched sides.”

“Barney Calhoun is a great man.” Isaac sat in a chair away from the camera, so far that you could see Lamarr actually sitting in a lap for once. “To give up on him would truly be a fantastical waste! As well, we have no indications of the Combine’s _intent_ towards him. This could go any number of directions.”

“I didn’t know Mr Calhoun as well as a lot of you-” Judith started, and Alyx’d nearly forgotten she was here. She’d been so quiet, even while Magnusson kept questioning the legitimacy of the meeting.

“None truly knew the darkness in which the Barney Calhoun lives.” Interrupted NLO’s Vort. 

"Yes, well. We’ve all encountered the Combine. I don’t think we should get our hopes up. There are plenty of important causes for our attention.” Alyx remembered when she used to be a pretty big fan of Mossman, as a kid. Those days were _far_ behind them. 

“We didn’t call this meeting to _give up!”_ D0G was still cradling her, which maybe took away some of her gravitas but FUCK THAT! “We called this meeting to get a plan of _action!”_

“Shouldn’t you be doing repair work somewhere?” Magnusson asked, as if he hadn’t noticed she’d been here the whole time.

“Bring me closer, D0G.” They were such a good boy, she was close enough to the camera to pointedly point, “Barney is _my_ uncle, and I say we’re not giving up on him. He wouldn’t give up on any of us.”

D0G’s speakers buzzed online, and they repeated in his voice. “ _I’ll be fine.”_

“Exactly. We’re not going to let him _lie_ to D0G, right?!” D0G DESERVED ONLY THE TRUTH! 

“RIGHT!” Issac exclaimed, only to shrink again sheepishly when Judith turned to look at him. “Ah, well, we shouldn’t give up. An hour truly is no time, within the grand scheme of things.”

Dad was looking thoughtfully at the whiteboard. “Alright, well, we need to know what we’re preparing for.”

“Are Ms Mossman and I simply to be _overruled_ ? We should be focusing more on Mr Freeman, the menace, and how to _take him out!”_

Dad sighed, and recapped his dry erase. “As far as we can tell, Gordon is misinformed.”

“I say we shall vote! All in favor of continuing this meeting, please give a thumbs up. If you would prefer not to, the opposite, a thumbs d-” Issac hadn’t finished talking by the time everyone made their opinions known. “Ah! Very fast, well. It appears we will be continuing!”

“ _I_ will be _going_ . At White Forest, I have a lot of _important_ responsibilities.” Magnusson pushed a button with such magnitude that it really should’ve just pretended to be the right one, for his sake. He tried a couple more, then stood up and left. Still broadcasting an empty room.

It was enough to bring a smile to her face. _Wow._

“I should probably step out, too. Give me the notes later, Eli?” Judith left as soon as Dad shot her a thumbs up.

“This meeting just got cozier, but that’s not always a bad thing.” The marker, the blue one that stained the board every time, was uncapped again.

Issac raised his hand, like Kindergarten. “I suggest we come up with every probable situation and make a simplistic plan for them each!” 

“A man after my own heart.” Dad said with a wink.

“I should hope I have it by now!”

Her parents were cute and all, but, “ _Planning._ ” If they _planned_ then she wouldn’t have to be _as intensely worried._

The Vort hummed, “The Alyx Vance may have a point about timeliness and how we choose to spend our moments.”

“The day I stop expressing affection is the day I’m gone.” Dad said, but he did start writing on the board. You know what? Alyx was sort of counting on it.

The meeting was long, there were _many_ options for what the Citadel could be planning for Barney but keeping good humor helped take some of the edge off. Also, D0G’s new, softer arms. Those helped too.

* * *

There was a bit of a spring in Barney’s step on his way back to Kleiner’s. He’d just seen Dr Breen again, on his way out, and Dr Breen hadn’t made any mention of, well… Anything!

He couldn’t see that guy _not_ reprimanding him, or worse, if he’d done something wrong so. That was it. Tomorrow, he would finally get to see Gordon again. For _real._ No mask! 

's one of those things that was too good to be true. While, usually, he’d be reminding himself about _reality_ he very much was not in the mood tonight. Instead, he was covered in the mellow haze of sleep deprivation. 

It’d been a long shift. Not a hard one, he got to sit basically the entire time. But lengthy. Slowly answering questions Gordon thought he might be able to get away with was harder than he’d think. It was clear Gordon was calculating the risks of everything he asked, and mostly stuck with simple things. _What year is it?_ and _Does all Dr Breen’s water “taste” the same?_

Then, Barney had to answer _just_ as diplomatically. He was thankful for all the practice he’d accidentally ended up with in his life.

When he left, Gordon was still awake, whether he was supposed to be or not. Barney knew from experience, if you gave Gordon any control over his own sleep schedule he’d stay up until he passed out. It was good to know some things hadn’t changed.

He took off his mask as he reached Kleiner’s basement. It was _really strange_ seeing out of one eyehole. New uniform, new uniform based difficulties!

Barney leaned against the soda-machine-turned-breen-machine and examined it. To get his eyes to look through the same hole, a thing two eyes don’t _tend_ to like, it had these binocular-like attachments that went to his face. Definitely made the mask bulkier, but he could tell why they included it. He’d been fucking around with it earlier, and it gave him _really stellar_ far away vision.

They must be serious about him guarding Gordon. Unique kicks, mask that does what the Overwatch Elite's _faces_ do, working hours that would’ve been illegal back in the old days.

Luckily, some things stayed the same. The mask clipped to his belt still, and he made his way in.

“Hey Kleiner, guess who’s al-” He called out before something huge and hard knocked him over, and held him down. Twice in one day, jeez. Somehow, he’d fallen on a rug and not plain tile. Didn’t help _much_ , but at least he hadn’t lost any teeth.

A gun pressed against his temple, “ _State your purpose._ ” Yeah, that was Alyx. Which meant that _this_ was D0G.

He should’ve expected something like this, “Visiting my friends.”

What was supposed to happen was D0G helping him up, and a sheepish apology from Alyx about how she thought he was some sort of enemy who’d found their base. What happened instead was he was lifted in the air, arms firmly clamped to his sides by D0G’s big ol hands. Like he was gonna be the next ball in Fetch.

There were more Resistance members in here than there should be. Realistically, Kleiner should be the only one, actually. Maybe a guard if the CP had been sniffing around nearby. Four plus Alyx seemed. _Overkill._

She looked him up and down, warily, then pulled out a flashlight. “Hold still.”

“Don’t have much of a choice, what’s going- AUGH!” That thing was _BRIGHT,_ he couldn’t help but wince and squeeze his eyes shut. Someone’s hand forced each one open in turn, but he couldn’t see to know who to hold a grudge on.

It was clicked off again, and his eyes closed just as quickly as they were let. “Pupils are dilating, no new eye shine.” 

“That’s good, next time can someone _else_ do the eye exam?” Barney asked with a groan. “D0G’s cutting off circulation.”

“Hm, yeah. Maybe Papa would’ve been a better choice.” There was an edge to her words that he _really_ wasn’t used to.

His eyes opened back up in surprise, but his vision was still filled with spots. “Papa? You haven’t called Kleiner Papa since you were, like, 15.”

The spotty, discolored shape that made up Alyx slumped and sighed in relief, “I think he’s safe. Memory’s intact, at least.

D0G placed him down, and patted his head once. It clicked, and he was sort of embarrassed he didn’t get what was going on in the first place. “Yeah, sorry for the scare, folks. Same old Barney. New gig, though. New clothes.”

“I still don’t trust him.” Someone said, sounding like they probably had arms crossed. He’d opted to keep em shut so his eyes got their. Juice back. Kleiner’d explained it once, and he remembered basically none of it. Vision pink or something. 

“That’s fair. Can someone lead me to a bed? It can be a bed in a cage, if you’re still worried, but I’m on assignment again in less than seven.”

For the _third_ time in a day, he was lunged for, this time it was more hug-ly. “ _DON’T SCARE US LIKE THAT?_ What _HAPPENED_ in there?”

Something in her voice reminded him of last time he’d gotten the flu. She wasn’t just worried about the cause, she was worried about _him._ Luckily, Combine wasn’t contagious. He hugged her back. “Surprisingly? Nothing too bad. Let’s walk and talk, I’m serious about the bed.”

He kept having to start his story over. First, when they opened the secret wall and Kleiner was there, with a rifle shakily pointed his way. Then they got Black Mesa East on the line. 

It was an unspeakable relief when they let him conk out while they continued the discussion of _ramifications_ and _plans of action_. He could be concerned about tomorrow when it came. Burn that bridge when you come to it, Calhoun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just got to Magnusson in HL2E2 and I'm pretty sure he's gay and homophobic. I will buy you a new lasagna sir, calm down.
> 
> [Oh also Kleiner and Eli are dating and they have been since before the ResCas. Eli, Kleiner, and Azian all have two hands.]


	9. Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is 9... Finally old enough to play with that American Girl Dolls whatever it was that I really wanted when I was 7 and forgot about by the time I was old enough!
> 
> Why was it 9+? I'm pretty sure it was just a white doggie plush with a book! I'm still baffled but I don't know enough keywords to look it up, I think! Also it doesn't matter.

Gordon had a  _ lot _ to think about. 

The Combine, they were called the Combine, were… Dangerous. He felt like he knew that one pretty solidly. Black Mesa was strict, but he’d never been beaten for a mistake. It wasn’t right, something was  _ very _ wrong.

The guard was very, very difficult to read with no facial expressions to go off of, and carefully controlled body language.

There were some things that gave them away, a little. They didn’t turn the page of their books nearly enough. Slow reading could be accounted for, but this was something else. No, they’d been reading Him. 

Another thing he knew for certain. Dr Breen’s Private Reserve was bad, all of it. Something was wrong with it, and Breen still wanted him to encourage the public to drink it. Why? For profit reasons? Or something else?

It was possible his message about the water being good would only be shown to communities Dr Breen didn’t care for. Insidious, but not unheard of. 

Propaganda. He was making propaganda. 

Looking back, Gordon realized that he’d only assumed the dangers you’d run into at night were inherent to the world. Reading it differently, that might be a threat? He might’ve threatened civilians? But, with what? He really didn’t have enough information about the operation of the world to know. A lot could change in 20 years, he just couldn’t be  _ sure. _

He had all sorts of questions and, for the next couple hours, no one to ask. 

* * *

He sat cross legged on his bed, back against the wall. Pad turned off and placed in the bathroom for additional privacy. 

There was something less controlled about PA today. Less straight laced, slouching more. He could maybe read that as him being more relaxed? Or, maybe, more tired.

PA reached up, and pulled off their mask.

The world stopped. Gordon’s heart sped up. For a moment, his brain just didn't give him thoughts. Those beautiful eyes, the way that hair sat, the shape of his jaw. Of  _ Barney’s _ jaw.

“Hello, Gordon.”

Gordon stood up. Before he knew what was happening, Gordon had Barney wrapped up in a hug. The quick kind where you didn’t think about where things went, where your glasses got askew and you ended up with a noseful of hair. 

It was an uncomfortable semi-crouch he put himself into, to reach Barney in the chair, but he  _ didn’t care. _ He couldn’t care! He was-

Here. Real. Older. Still so, so handsome. Alive,  _ breathing _ , and not pushing Gordon away. 

A gloved hand reached for his cheek, “Gordon, I…” 

He pulled away enough to search Barney’s face, but he kept his hands on his shoulders. There was a scar on his cheek, now. A couple extra wrinkles around his eyes, and his hair… Looked fantastic, the streaks of grey suited him so well, somehow. He was tearing up, but Gordon could relate.

“I’m just so glad you’re back.”

Gordon nodded. He was speechless.

They both ended up sat on Gordon’s bed, across from each other, legs touching. The simple kind of intimacy he’d been missing, of being simply pressed up against someone.

“Yesterday, I couldn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure if Breen was watching, and he told me not to reveal myself until... Well, it doesn’t matter. Far as we can tell, he’s not listening in.”

That made sense, if any of his hypotheses were correct. Gordon didn’t find it in him to mind another day, especially with how long he’d been gone already. “We?”

A deep breath, a sad look, “Things’ve been pretty bad since the ResCas, Doc. I’m talking war with an alien race, narrowly avoided being obliterated bad. I’m part of the Resistance, we’re trying to get the Earth out from under the Combine’s foot.”

“Spy?” He asked, and Barney nodded. “You're brave.”

“Aw, shucks! Not really. Just doin my part.” Gordon felt like he was probably underplaying himself, “You gave all of us a real scare when you showed up on the big screens, advocating for Breen’s stupid curfew. It’s mostly made up, anyway. Clocks are pretty rare these days.”

Gordon grimaced. “Sorry about that. Thought I was helping.”

“I know, babe.” Barney put a hand on his knee, which felt embarrassingly comforting considering what a small gesture it was. “You’ve figured it out though, right? Combine is bad news.”

He nodded frantically, “After my mix-up they made it rather clear! I would prefer to leave. How  _ is _ the outside?”

Barney waggled his hand in a so-so motion. “Depends. It’s better out of the city, as long as you don’t get shelled. By, uh, headcrabs. When they send headcrabs your way, that’s what we call it. ’s worse than a bomb sometimes.”

_ He’d been through so much. _ Headcrabs were one of the most terrifying things Gordon ever encountered, and they were  _ weaponized? _ He didn’t know what to say to that, except, “May I hug you again?”

This time, Barney wrapped  _ him _ up and squeezed, just like Gordon adored. Good, reliable deep pressure. Fuck, he’d missed positive human contact more than he knew. “I know, it’s a lot. But, we’re workin on a way to get you out. You should’ve heard the meeting this morning, they were debating where’s best to put a camera on me to get the greatest picture of the layout.”

Gordon rested his head on Barney’s shoulder, and hushed his thoughts about the family he might have. Friends were allowed this. 

“On the bright side, with the teleportation array up, we just need to get you Kleiner’s and we’re home free. It’s not too far a run once you’re out.”

Kleiner’s? That must mean.

“Yup, Issac’s still kicking. Eli Vance and their kid, Alyx, too.” Oh, he must’ve tensed in surprise. Barney always knew how to read him. “You’ll love her. She’s a genius, way more helpful now that she’s not trying to take apart microwaves anymore.” He laughed, and it was _musical._ Technically, it sounded a bit like Woody Woodpecker, but Gordon knew what he was about.

Anyway, Gordon never was good with kids, but Barney used to babysit a lot. They’d had to cancel a date once to go help whatever fool left Alyx unattended long enough to find a screwdriver. Nonverbal doesn’t mean easy babysitting. It was a miracle she didn’t get herself electrocuted.

“She’s actually a pretty big deal these days. You should’ve seen her yesterday when she thought I was an intruder. Probably could’ve killed me!”

Gordon pulled away slightly, and Barney let go. There was something he was talking around. “Azian?”

His jovial expression fell, and he sighed, “She’s been gone a long time, Doc. Most of Anomalous Materials didn’t make it out, too. I’m the only one left from Blue Shift.”

“Dang. I always liked B-A-S-S better.” He was really hoping it wasn’t too soon to joke.

Barney laughed! It wasn’t! “I forgot about him! You know, I never  _ did _ get around to askin how his last name was pronounced.”

“There are many mysteries in life.” Gordon signed wistfully.

“But of all of them, the greatest is the name of Blue Shift’s Security’s Newest Member.” He remembered! He even did the Documentary Voice. They both smiled at each other, and just enjoyed it, for a moment. Then the shape of Barney’s eyes changed a little, softened into something sadder. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. Barney.”

They might not be dating anymore. Barney could’ve very well moved on when he didn’t come back to Black Mesa after Xen. He would never blame him for that. 

Seeing the look on his face, when Gordon called him by his sign name? He might be able to live like this, sustaining himself on simple, friendly, platonic smiles. Just like before they spotted each other in the closest gay bar to Black Mesa, before either of them had any idea the other could possibly love them back. 

It would be better if he was out of Breen’s sphere of influence, though. Gordon found himself sobering. He could be soft later, have sweet feelings later. Right now, they needed to focus on survival and escape. 

They were out of Black Mesa, but they certainly weren’t out of the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weeheehee, champter. Hopefully I made this emotional enough for the circumstances! It's difficult when a character can't talk unless they're Not embracing. 
> 
> They're both under the impression that their bf doesn't love them anymore. "Oh yeah, I'm fine with just being friends." both of them lie to themselves, internally.


	10. Breen means Clean!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, this chapter takes place the same day as the previous one. 
> 
> CONTENT WARNING. A couple times, characters refer to drinking a non-potable substance known for being bad for drinking. This is all in jest and none of it is ever /in/-jest. Ed.

After talking, scheming, they had a plan. It wasn’t solid, but hopefully it should give them more freedom. It involved seeing Dr Breen, which was always a downside, but if he believed them, it would be worth it.

Two birds with one stone.

* * *

“Ah, Mr Freeman. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Wallace hadn’t been expecting to see him out of his room, not on the second day he had Mr Calhoun employed. Here he stood, however. Straight-backed, expression calm. It was clear he was taking this more seriously.

He kept his own expression static as Mr Freeman signed  _ something _ in response. Wallace hated not knowing, for any amount of time. Mr Freeman was lucky he was willing to put up with this sort of delay.

“Dr Freeman says he needs exercise, so his muscles don’t weaken. He intends to take walks, and your office is along his way.” Barney Calhoun was a prompt and clear translator, despite his mask’s voice filter. 

Regular walks? If it was simply Mr Freeman by himself, he would be concerned about him discovering something he shouldn’t know about. However, with his guard… It could be allowed.

“As long as you don’t let it interfere with your work, it is allowed.” Mr Calhoun should  _ probably _ be smart enough to pick up on the true meaning of  _ this. _ “However, there are several sections of the Citadel with heavy machinery. Stay out of restricted areas, for your own safety, Mr Freeman.”

He nodded once. Good, something  _ understandable. _

“Speaking of your work, Mr Freeman.” He continued to stand rigid, it was better than cowering. It was nice, sometimes, to have people at his feet, but simpering got annoying in high doses. “Yesterday, you filmed no new broadcasts. What was the cause of this?”

He had the vision to look a little sheepish at his mistake. Good.

“He says, I was ill. I spoke about it to my PA and he informed me that Dr Breen’s Private Reserve water contains sodium hypochlorite. I have an allergy, which would explain my adverse reaction.” 

Wallace was impressed. Mr Calhoun used past knowledge of Mr Freeman’s allergies to quash concern. 

“I intend to refilm that broadcast today, but I will be adding in a line warning others who have my allergy, though obscure. Is that allowed?”

Mr Calhoun had outdone himself. “You may go ahead.” 

He nodded again, and signed… Something.

“Thank you, Dr Breen. I will be continuing my walk, now.” 

Hiring Mr Calhoun for this was one of the best decisions Wallace had made recently. He’d have to find a way to reward himself.

* * *

Their plan was a rousing success.

As soon as they were back in the relative safety of Gordon’s room, Barney took off his mask and burst out laughing. “ _ DR GREASY? _ You’re killin me, Doc, that’s fantastic!”

Gordon huffed out a little laughter of his own, he’d picked greasy impulsively, but it was subtle enough of an insult to get away with, he was pretty sure. It wasn’t too obvious visually. He waited until he was sure Barney was looking at him to say, “I don’t think he washes his hands.”

More laughter, the beautiful kind from when he was actually delighted. Not the fake kind for work parties. “You know, I said the same thing to Alyx last week! At least I’m wearing gloves.”

“I wasn’t on our first meeting, he transmitted many diseases.”

“Gordon Sickman?” Barney grinned, messing up the faux sympathy he was trying to use.

He nodded sadly in return. “They won’t know what to put on my death certificate, so they’ll just put B-R-E-E-N.”

“What a way to die.” Barney shook his head sadly, and wrapped an arm around Gordon, just to give him one squeeze. His heart fluttered helpfully in response. “Let’s get you set up for your big commercial, buddy.”

They separated, and Barney clicked his mask back on. Gordon was caught up in how his shoulder tingled. Damn it, he was touch starved, wasn’t he? 

That shouldn’t be a surprise, it was going on a week since last time he’d seen Barney. He hadn’t exactly been cuddling other scientists and security guards back in Black Mesa. He  _ had _ lifted someone onto his shoulders, but that was to try and get them to a heal station. It wasn’t the gentle touch you needed for wellbeing. Probably?

_ Did _ dragging a limp body count for his brain as human contact? Life hack alert. 

“ _ The camera’s ready, Dr Freeman. _ ” 

Thanks horrible, distorted voice of Barney Calhoun, love of Gordon’s life! He schooled his expression and stood in his usual spot. “Are we good?”

Barney gave him a thumbs up in response, so he said exactly what was in the script. The  _ improved _ script. Less heavy handed on the dangers of not drinking water, now that he knew not to really be worried. And, of course, this line.

_ “Dr B-r-e-e-n’s Private Reserve is safe to drink, as long as you don’t have a s-o-d-i-u-m h-y-p-o-c-h-l-o-r-i-t-e allergy.” _

Once he’d gotten through his remarks, he patiently smiled until the camera was clicked back off. Then, it was replaced by a genuine grin. Part one of their plan just worked! 

Dr Breen’s Private Reserve didn’t actually contain sodium hypochlorite, but he’d given no indication he knew that. He had a doctorate in business administration, there was no need for him to know chemical names and what they actually were. 

They’d officially gotten Breen’s permission to warn everyone in City 17 not to drink Private Reserve if you have a  _ bleach _ allergy. Which, you know, all humans had. It was a stellar idea, he could take very little credit for it. Not that he’d want to, anyway. 

The mask was off again, now that it was safe for Barney to use his real voice, and he smirked. “You were pretty convincing! Let’s get this sent off to Breen’s for captions.”

“Isn’t my PA going to add the captions? What am I paying you for?” He asked with what was hopefully a pout. It was partially a tease, but if Barney put the captions on [Gordon had a feeling he’d gotten way better with tech in the last 20 years, from how easily he’d used that camera] they’d have one less person that would see it before it went out. 

“Oh, I better get a raise for this one.” He sat down on the bed, back against the wall.

“I’ll try and get you dental.” Gordon quipped right back, and slid in next to him. Without thinking. 

Dang it, it’d been a week for  _ him _ , but for Barney it’d been forever! He still hadn’t broached the topic of  _ his _ life in  _ particular _ , too busy asking about if they’d saved the polar bears. [It was the only thing one of Black Mesa’s interns ever talked about, made a man curious.]

Barney took off one of his gloves, so he could interact with the Pad’s screen. Gordon found himself staring at his hand. He didn’t have anything on his ring finger… Or any of them. Just a couple faint, slash-looking scars Gordon didn’t recognize. One he did, from the widdling incident. 

He didn’t get pushed away, or shrugged off, though. So he kept leaning. The implication so far was that things were pretty bad, but maybe that meant Barney and his partner had… More kids? He couldn’t imagine Barney turning down literally any kid with a tragic backstory. Or just in general.

Then again. His eyes went back to Barney’s ring finger. He had so many questions, and not at all enough gumption to ask them. Also dire need of a dictionary, he’d never actually  _ looked up _ gumption before. 

For now, he’d keep to important questions about what Breen’s scripts meant, and just try and trick his brain into thinking this was another schoolboy crush. One he could get rid of. You could outgrow crushes like that, just like how he’d- 

Never actually got over how he’d felt about his DND DM in college, did he? Damn it.

* * *

Today, Barney came in with his hands up, and was not jumped as a reward. His hip, and also the rest of his body, definitely preferred this.

D0G picked him up again, much more gently this time. Alyx had a smaller flashlight. All better things. “Today went well.”

One eye, ouch. Less ouch than yesterday. “I heard! The plan you and Gordon came up with was ingenious.”   
  
“You  _ heard? _ ” 

She did the other eye, and he was back on his feet. “Yeah, we bugged you.”   
  
Barney’s mouth pressed into a line whether he wanted it to or not. Oh  _ shoot _ , what all had he said today? He hoped no one got on his case for being underprofessional with Gordon, earlier. “You didn’t tell me I was mic-ed.”

“Then it wouldn’t count as bugging you.” He would give her that. “But, you know, it pays to be awake during meetings. Anyway, we just did that to make sure it wasn’t a double cross.”

“Nah, it’d be a triple cross, I’m already double crossing the Combine.” His vision was starting to come back, and he confidently sat down in a nearby chair. If he barely missed at first… No he didn’t. 

Alyx crossed her arms. “Is that how that works? How many does it go to?” He shrugged helpfully, “I wonder how many crosses a person can keep track of…”

“Lucky for us, I’m not lookin to find out!” It was exhausting enough being a spy one time over. He’d never been real into characters who you couldn’t tell their loyalty, if you squinted hard enough. Loyalty meant motivations, and motivations meant you could tell what the hell is going on. 

Knowing what was going on in his own life was something he strove for, usually.

“ _ Kleiner, he’s safe!” _ She called into the inner part of the lab. “I think I could take six.”

“Six of what, my dear?”

“Six double crosses.”

“How would you keep track of  _ twelve _ allegiance swaps?”

The following argument was so convoluted, Barney kind of wish he was still in Breen’s Office. Kind of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ew, Breen's POV. Kinda feel like washing my hands...
> 
> In other news, I made a little playlist of songs that remind me of the story. Most of these have lyrics that fit the vibes, or the vibes of certain story beats I have planned.
> 
> Also Don't Bring me Down is here because it's legally required to be.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLqnGeU3n6sbbKBP27B-HYJlIQNAYAC3pL 
> 
> Check it out! and FEEL FREE to read hidden meaning into it! Because it is there, in certain song choices. ;]


	11. Let's Go for a Walk!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING, in this chapter a character has a bit of a panic attack. Anxiety attack? I don't know which, I get both and the distinction was never important to me.
> 
> So! This is a LITTLE heavy, be careful!
> 
> Don't forget to check out the playlist I put in chapter 10's end notes.

Barney warned him earlier. He warned him, he told him that some [or maybe most?] of the things the Combine did were horrifying. That they might encounter robots way beyond where Earth tech got on its own, or maybe even the headcrab breeding program. The Resistance still wasn’t sure where that happened, apparently.

He’d been warned about these, too.  _ Stalkers. _ They basically  _ bombed  _ Uncanny Valley, so  _ close _ to a human, but  _ not there. _ It made it worse that it wasn’t just his brain interpreting a strange fish, no. These looked like humans because they  _ used _ to be. 

He was currently starring one down, and probably getting the equivalent of it right back. It was really hard to tell when its eyes were reduced to just-

“ _ Doctor Freeman. _ ” Barney subtly tugged on his sleeve, and Gordon stepped out of the way. It continued on like nothing happened. 

Usually, he didn’t get moments to. Examine. Usually he was being shot at, usually he was being clawed at, usually he just shot and clawed back until he was the only thing capable of moving in a room. Being so close to something like that, seeing how it moved, it was-

“ _ We’ll talk later. _ ” Was all Barney offered, but he still appreciated it. There really were cameras out here, all of them Gordon was pretending not to notice. Act like you’re supposed to be here, and all that. 

He wished they could afford to hold hands. Instead, he’d have to settle for squeezing his own arms, clasped behind his own back. Dignified-looking self soothing for a dignified-looking wreck. 

They passed through a room with clear glass walls, two more Stalkers operating machinery. With a pang, Gordon realized that they looked slightly different. There was something in their skull shapes, and one of them was taller than the other.

He needed to think about something else.

It sort of made sense why it was all kept so cold in here?

Internally, he flinched. That was also a bad topic, anything else,  _ anything _ else? 

He missed trip mines? 

Yeah, he missed trip mines. Missed the color blue their laser was. Missed the security of having an explosive between you and… a threat,  _ not-thinking-about-threats _ . Color, security, right. 

Missed fidgeting with this broken off piece of one he found, two interlocking pieces, could rotate one in the other, it was very good.

Gordon was paying more attention to his surroundings than he wanted to, even still. He wasn’t actually that good at distractions. Good at  _ getting _ distracted, but in moments like these where he didn’t  _ want _ to be, say, observing the way the lighting glinted off the strange black walls. Well, he was definitely observing that specific thing.

Barney’s  _ clack, clack, clack _ of his boots was comforting. He was there, right there, and he was actually  _ trained _ for danger. 

His footsteps were pronounced, substantial. He sounded important. Gordon, meanwhile, was wearing socks. He hadn’t been given any shoes. Put that down in the  _ reasons escape is hard _ category. Not impossible, but hard.

That was the whole point of their little walk today, actually. If Citadel Security, apparently this rank of Combine officers was called the _Overwatch_ _Elite,_ recognized Gordon being out of his room as normal… Well, it would be easier to get him further out of his room. Out of the whole building, ideally. 

Yesterday, they’d established good reason for Gordon to be doing this. Today, they were taking a test drive. This was just as terrifying as driving, so test drive was an apt descriptor.

Also, they were recording footage of the inside of the Citadel for plotting an escape route later. Apparently, Barney was wearing cameras. Gordon had never known a camera to be that small and discrete, but the future had its perks. 

“ **_STOP!_ ** ” Said one of those Overwatch, just as they were about to pass another clear glass room. Speak of the devil.

His hands unclasped, and he slowly moved them to where they could be seen. Then, Gordon said. “I’ve lived on the moon my entire life.” 

Luckily for the poor soldier, Barney was there to help. “ _ Freeman needs exercise. _ ”

Gordon nodded once, “Craters were my home.” 

“ _ Dr Breen allows it.” _

It was amazing how professional the two of them could act, despite the tragic story of Gordon’s displacement. The Overwatch Elite, who themself was from Mars, let them pass. 

Part two of their plan was working wonderfully. 

* * *

The door to Gordon’s room wasn’t better to lean on than any other Combine door, but, to Barney, it felt so much more  _ secure _ in here. Like standing next to a fully charged healing station, back against the wall. He wasn’t sure if it was the privacy that did it, or Gordon himself.

He, uh. He didn’t seem to be feeling the same way, though. 

Gordon was in the chair, shoulders to his ears, hands shaped into claws squeezing and scratching at his lab coat sleeves. Oh shit, it’d been awhile- 

Barney knew how to apply deep pressure. He knew how to wrap his arms around someone, nothing could take that away. Gordon fell right into him instead of keeping his back glued to the chair, arms trapped between the two of them in a way that was  _ probably _ uncomfortable, but definitely not enough he’d care yet.

He tried to whisper, “ _ I’ve gotcha. _ ” but, damn it, mask fucked that one right up. Made him flinch,  _ opposite _ of the goal. He kept the pressure up with one arm, and removed his mask as quick as he could. “I’ve gotcha, darlin. I’m right here, I’ve gotcha.”

Gordon sobbed against him, a sound made more of emotions than tears. “You’re safe right now. Think you can. Think you can breathe for me, babe?” 

He felt him nod once, “Alright, do it with me. In through your nose, annnd, out through your mouth.” Gordon let it out too quickly, but that was okay. “In, two, three, four. Out, six, seven, eight.”

All of Barney’s thoughts were on Gordon’s breathing, listening to it get a little less shuddery each time. Repeating the count until felt like Gordon would be good enough to reply to, “Coat good?”

His breath hitched for a moment without the count, but he managed to shake his head, and Barney resumed counting as he gently separated. He helped Gordon’s arms out of his sleeves, and didn’t comment on how tight his fists were. 

* * *

At some point, Gordon managed to tell Barney he wanted to be on the bed. Which was, honestly, a huge relief. The half-kneeling position he’d taken up was a little  _ very uncomfortable _ on the bad part of his back [also known as the entirety of his back]. 

So, here he was. On Gordon’s bed again, twice in two days, with the man of the hour pressed tightly against his chest. His breathing was under control, which meant Barney was free to stop saying numbers and start saying other things. 

Currently, he was catching Gordon up on what he’d missed with Alyx. Which was to say, anything Barney could think of about Alyx.

“So, she picks me up like I don’t weigh anything, and smirks. And, and, get  _ this.  _ She smirks in the same way Azian always did, remember? When she’d get you to stay for dinner by asking what you had for lunch?” Barney sighed, “Alyx pulls the same trick on me sometimes. It’s pretty neat, the little ways she’s like her parents. Mostly she’s just herself, though.”

It surprises him when Gordon pats his arm, and he loosens his hold to let him up. 

“You ready to talk about it?”

He nodded, but then just. Stopped to stare at his own hands, as if they’re the thing holding this meeting up. Somebody else had to take the initiative, which was fine. He didn’t mind.

“Yeah, it’s not.” Barney swallowed, hand going to rub his neck. “It’s not easy, none of it is. But the Vortigants have proof of  _ their _ afterlife, so that helps me sleep at night. You’ve just gotta remember to focus on whatcha got right now, Gordon. Who’s still alive and counting on you.”

Gordon took a minute to think about what he’d said, lightly nodding at first. Then he just looked… Thoughtful. Finally, he asked. “The who?”

“Whoops! Uh, they’re kind of important, I haven’t mentioned Vorts yet?” He shook his head, “They know so much about you, I guess I just forgot. So, uh. Back in Black Mesa, you ever see these tall folks? Four eyes, greyish skin? Lighting powers?”

He nodded once, face utterly serious.

“You freed them, apparently. Killed some sort of evil psychic overlord. They’re real grateful, you’re kind of spiritually important to em. They’ve been prophesying your return since two minutes after you left, about.” 

Barney couldn’t read all the emotions flashing across Gordon’s face, though despair was definitely one. He  _ especially _ couldn’t read what he started  _ saying. _ Too fast, too shaky, and- He wasn’t even finishing words, as far as he could tell.

“Darlin.” He didn’t stop. Barney gently touched his shoulder. “Hey, Gordon, slow down for me?”

“...  _ Sentient? _ ” 

Ah, yeah. He’d had trouble with that, too. “Yeah. Real smart, too. They’ve got this hive mind thing going on, and they’re real confusing to talk to, but definitely sentient. But listen.”

Barney did a  _ lot _ of haphazard emotional work, mostly bottling honestly, but a LOT of work to figure out how he felt about All That. Gordon didn’t need to go through that alone. He wouldn’t go through it alone. “I want you to really hear this. I don’t think anyone holds Black Mesa against anyone, alright? Lots of people died for lots of reasons back there. There’s too much blame for any of us, don’t crush yourself under it.”

Gordon jerkily nodded, eyes filling with tears. Okay, wow, he must’ve really needed someone to say it wasn’t all his fault.

“Okay, come back here. I think somebody needs another hug.” There were no protests, and once again, Gordon was safely against his chest. Or maybe he should think of that in a different way-- Oh, whatever. 

“I’m gonna tell you some good stuff about Vorts, so you’re excited to meet em instead of dreading it. You still like bugs?” Trick question. The only answer was yes, they’d met. “There’s a new kind, we call em Antlions. It’s their mating season, right around now. They’re huge, big as a golden retriever, and you’re gonna love watchin em. From a safe distance. Freak  _ me _ out, but Kleiner says they’re cute. I’ll put up with a little antlion watching, once you’re out of here.”

It was reassuring, to feel Gordon relax into him again. He hadn’t had someone lay their head on his shoulder in… Well, guess how long.

“But, Vorts. They used to farm the things, apparently. We’re gonna get you out of here, and you’re gonna talk shop about those creepy things until the cows come home.” Which would be awhile. He was starting to think they might’ve gone extinct. "Look forward to it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been getting burnt out a lot recently. On the bright side! My posting goal is actually once a week, and I've been hitting that. I think I just want to be done with this part of the story. I would like to move on to all of these ideas I have for later things.
> 
> Also, I want you all to know that I wrote the sentence "He wished they could hold afford to hands." and then didn't notice for three days.


	12. I Did The Math, This Chapter Takes Place on a Friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12 chapters! This story is a Tween! Officially!!!
> 
> I once knew someone who insisted he was a tween when he was 11, and that he was a teen when he was 12. I think he did it to be more mature? I still don't completely understand it, because I always resisted growing up. It's amazing how different people's views on things as simple as aging can be? 
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> Look, Reader! Propaganda! You can use this to imagine Barney and Gordon filming it!

_ “Hello, City 17! I’m Doctor Gordon Freeman. _

_ Recently, crates have been going missing in City 17 and its surrounding areas. I am all for citizens getting what they need, but crates are intended for Civil Protection and other public servants.  _

_ If a crate isn’t marked, it’s for shipping of important goods. The wood is hard to get, and it is impolite for you to salvage what’s being used. If it’s marked with supply, then it contains vital resources necessary for a CP Officer’s survival on the job. Ask yourself if you truly need these supplies.  _

_ Are you willing to take them from a loyal CP who might be in danger without them? Make good choices.  _

_ We only want the best for you. We’re here to help.” _

* * *

Planning meeting went well last night, finally another one Barney managed to stay awake through. He wasn’t sure if that meant his body was getting used to this ridiculous sleep schedule, or if he’d just finally stopped listening to it. Could go either way. 

When he said  _ we need to get him out _ , the others said  _ we’re working on it. _ When he said that  _ they should’ve seen Gordon _ they reminded them that  _ they had seen Gordon, remember. _

In the moment, it was real easy to forget that Gordon’s entire attack, and everything he’d done to comfort him through it, was being recorded. 

Well, so what. Now the Resistance knew Gordon was a human being with complex emotions... Also that Barney was immensely proud of Alyx. Neither of those things should be secrets.

That was yesterday. This was today. Once again, it was time to do something… Dangerous. 

He walked stiffly through the Citadel entrance, back as straight as he could make it to make up for his… Addition. 

Every moment was fear, and anxiety. Every second was laced with dread. Every piece of machinery he passed could double as a body scanner, every Overwatch he passed might notice a difference in how his clothes fell. Because, pressed against his undershirt by this uniform vest there was a rubber floor mat.

Barney Calhoun was risking his life to sneak something useless into the Citadel. 

It was for a  _ reason, _ they weren’t doing this  _ just _ to get him killed. No, Gordon needed shoes. Trying to run through City 17 without anything but socks, over broken glass and discarded bullets, would be hell. They weren’t gonna make him do that.

If there was anything that could somehow tell he was smuggling something in, though, they didn’t want to find out with him actually  _ having _ shoes. Shoes would give them away. You didn’t really need them in the Citadel, with how smooth everything was. Unless, of course, you appreciated not having your toes freeze off but. Whatever.

A rubber mat was one of the most innocuous items there was. You couldn’t betray someone with a rubber mat, so if he was found out he might be able to be convincing. He might evade death. He’d gotten pretty good at it.

They’d thought about giving him hot water bottles instead, but if something happened to him… The Resistance kind of needed those back. He got that.

No one stopped him. He made it all the way up, all the way to Gordon’s room. He held a hand up to greet the previous shift’s guard. They stood aside, and let him through. After he was in and the door was secure again, they’d  _ then _ be fully clear of their duty for the day. Not a moment before.

It was wise, shift change was one of the weakest points in most security layouts. If, you know, you believed spy movies. Which he did. 

Gordon stood by the window, though he wasn’t looking out it. Instead, he leaned casually against a wall. He could see the underlying tension in his stance, though. He was ready for… Something.

Barney took off his mask, and smiled. “I missed a couple of your birthdays, huh? Give me a sec, our friends sent a gift.” 

He fumbled with the straps holding the outermost armor on. It latched different than he was used to, “It’s not a real gift, more like a test. Kleiner’s idea, actually.” The second layer was loosened, which meant he could reach under it and…

“Wha-lah!” 

Gordon looked very stunned, eyes awful wide, but you know. That could probably be chalked up to a man pulling a whole welcome mat out from under his clothes. Not somethin you see everyday. He took it from him, and just. Looked at it. Speechless.

“Surprise, Citadel warming gift.” Getting his clothes tightened back up was just as difficult and new as loosening them. You get used to a CP uniform, turns out. He wasn’t looking at Gordon, he missed the way his gaze was glued to where Barney’s hands were working. “It was a test to see if I can bring you things without anyone noticing, and turns out I sure can. It’ll make our field trip a whole lot easier.”

Click, secured again. 

Gordon was still holding it. “Oh, you don’t have to carry that around with you.”

Barney paid no mind as Gordon deliberated on where it should go. He’d always been good at just. Keeping on talking, even without input. “Well, we know I can bring ya rubber, anyway. Without getting noticed, that is. So, unfortunately, you’re not gonna be holding another crowbar just yet.”

“You know, when folks told me you were seen in Black Mesa lugging around a crowbar, I thought they must’ve run into Colette instead. You never struck me as a blunt force trauma type, but after Tuesday, you know when I got here it was a Tuesday. Whew, I can believe it.”

He was placing the mat down in the bathroom, in front of his camera setup. That was kind of… Mildly devious. Just out of sight. 

“If our walk goes well today, we were thinking…” Deep breath, Calhoun. This was tense news, but good. Still real good. “Tomorrow. We were thinking of going for it tomorrow.”

He straightened up in surprise, and moved out of the camera’s line of sight, “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but only if word’s gotten around the Overwatch, okay?”

“Okay.” Gordon nodded once, trying not to get his hopes up but. He was excited, and he had every right to be, “... We still have days of the week?”

Barney couldn’t help but laugh.

* * *

So far, so good. 

He hadn’t had any attacks yet. Knowing what the Stalkers looked like, it… Well it didn’t make them not horrifying, but at least it wasn’t a surprise.

Maybe it was easier today because he was too busy thinking about what he  _ thought _ might be happening when Barney started unbuckling garments? Big change from what anxiety brain was doing immediately before. He’d opened the window to reassure himself that, if someone other than Barney came in, he could push them out. 

Don’t blame a man for getting excited, alright?

Today, they were taking a different route. Made as subtle of a beeline as they could to an elevator, so they could scope out lower floors more. 

They passed over more precarious platforms today, and looked down on huge machines, which he could’ve been convinced either way of if they counted as alive or not. Good thing he liked how bugs looked, the future seemed to be filled with new ones. 

Barney subtly spelled names for him. He’d get their actual signs later, once they were back to safety. Lots of their names were touted as “ _ secret Resistance signs _ ” and mostly banned from use.

Now that he’d learned one bad thing about the Combine, they were starting to pile up.

It was alarming when Barney said out loud that he  _ didn’t know _ what something was, though. So, mystery beetle things, that was fine.

Only one officer stopped them.

These were all very good signs.

* * *

Learning new signs from Barney, and not the other way around, was  _ so weird. _

He repeated Strider over and over, trying to get it down, making sure he’d remember it just in case he needed to, you know. Warn anyone there was a Strider.

“You know, there’s gonna be a lot more folks for you to talk to, these days.” Barney said, hand in his chin, watching him. They were sitting with their legs touching again. It was still very nice.

He gestured for Barney to elaborate.

“Yeah, speaking without making noise is really useful. Well, okay.” His smile widened, “ _ I _ sure don’t need to tell  _ you _ that, but everyone else’s finally caught on, I guess. The whole Resistance knows the basic threat names, and fingerspelling, very least. Lots of kids know more, though. They grew up idolizing you, it only makes sense.”

This was fantastic news, everyone knowing  _ something _ was a dream he’d kind of always had. He was tired of wasting paper with the same pleasantries all the time. One problem, though. “Idolizing  _ me? _ ”

“Ah, shoot, Gordon. It’s such a way of life, I kinda forgot  _ you _ wouldn’t know. Yeah, you know how Vorts think you hung the moon?” It was rhetorical, probably, but he nodded anyway. “Well, stories from Black Mesa survivors started circulating, too. Some of them are pretty outlandish, but you. You saved a lot of lives in there, Gordon.”

Oh. Well. “I don’t know how to. Feel about that. I was just surviving.” It was strange to think that his coworkers, who mostly looked down on him despite his credentials, started thinking he was some savior. Teaching children he was somebody important.

“We all were, back there. But  _ you _ were wearing a shmancy HEV suit, you care about others, and you launched a rocket into space. Then went and punched a big psychic bastard, also in space.” 

He… Had done a  _ couple _ things, to protect folks who didn’t have their own safety equipment. He wasn’t sure that going ahead of everyone else and taking out creatures super counted, though. 

“I didn’t do  _ any _ punching.”

“You should’ve! Imagine the artwork folks could’ve done of you if you’d went around  _ punching _ stuff!”

“There’s art of me?”

The world had changed so, so much.

* * *

Tomorrow, Gordon would be doing his last broadcast. Hopefully. Which made this his second to last broadcast. Hopefully!

Out of the topics Breen gave him, it would probably be best to do  _ this _ one. Like yesterday’s crate broadcast, if he could be unconvincing and intentionally informative. That was better than leaving Breen’s version in circulation.

Recently, they’d been denying folks their rations. Frankly, disgusting. Breen’s speech about it was, of course, dismissive and completely dodged the point. He just hoped his version would be better.

“ _ Hello, City 17. My name is Gordon Freeman. _

_ Some residents have been complaining about not getting rations. With the sophisticated system our Benefactors have set up, how could such issues occur?  _

_ Our Benefactors work very hard to supply everyone with the food they require, even with many parts of our Earth left barren. There’s no need to grow your own food, such as corn and wheat, out on the edges of the city. _

_ Remember, to farm and ranch is to forsake our Benefactors.  _

_ Think very hard about your decisions. Make good choices. We only want to help. _ ”

Imply doubt in the Combine’s qualifications, check. Give suggestions of crops, check. Make farming sound cool because forsake was a cool word, check.

It was still a little more subtle than he’d liked. He didn’t want to raise any extra suspicion, so it’d have to do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I skimmed over every chapter to figure out what day of the week it was, so I could make Barney reference what day of the week it was when they met again. It got me to thinking...
> 
> As soon as this story is over, I'm going back and editing it so it's, like. Better. I think certain chapters could be combined, and I have a couple scenes I kinda wanna add in? Plus, I was misspelling Vortigaunts up until this chapter.
> 
> But, you know, as soon as I start editing that's it for writing. I'll just get wrapped up in it!! It's a struggle. I barely contain self control.
> 
> So, story wise, things are moving along!
> 
> Do you know how excited I am for Gordon trying to escape the Citadel? Do you? DO YOU? 
> 
> Warning for the three or more folks who aren't actually into Half Life, and just are reading this. The story is progressing, and soon we'll actually get to Chapter 2 of Half Life 2: A Red Letter Day. That is RIGHT, technically this all takes place in Chapter 1. Gordon dawdles so much, wow. Played the first chapter of HL2 for 160+ hours. Anyway! Actual Half Life Story Spoilers! May Occur!


	13. OPERATION 3-18-15-3-19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Patch Notes can be found at the bottom. 
> 
> Here we are, folks! We're about to get to the Mr Blue Sky portion of this fic! You have no idea what it means, but I sure do! 
> 
> See if you can notice all the subtle references to the fact I've played the first three-ish chapter of Half Life ALYX.

Today, instead of feeling dread? Well, he still felt dread, but it was covered up by an exciting, tingly feeling. Like electricity, powering him. Excitement. If they pulled this off, they’d’ve managed to get out of one of the highest security buildings in _existence._ Right under Dr Breen’s nose.

More importantly, Gordon Freeman would be safe. Somewhere he could relax. Barney really just, _really_ wanted to see him safe and happy.

He had the shoes.

Gordon’s mouth quirked up in a smile when he clicked his mask off. He was leaning near the window again. Fully dressed, fully awake, and really. Really handsome, dang it.

“I’m gonna need your help with this one, Doc.” Barney admitted, once they were in the room. “Alyx, uh. Duct taped them to my back.”

He blinked in surprise, walked over. 

“It was the only way to make em lay flat, you know?”

With four hands, things went faster, and then came the big reveal.

Gordon started laughing.

* * *

[ _Like, an hour ago..._ ] 

If Gordon stayed up doing Sudoku again, Barney might just kill him. Sure, he’d put him to bed before he left, but that didn’t mean he _trusted_ him to _stay_ there. 

Yeah, okay, Barney was grumpy because he had to get up _even earlier than usual_ to get the full escape plan. He’d like one of them to be rested, at least. 

Nobody _else_ was awake, just him and Alyx. So he was slouched in a chair, pretending he was aware of his surroundings, while she stood proudly in front of the wheelable board. This side was covered in stars, like lots of surfaces she got her hands on.

Something was exciting her, a good sign.

“Now, get ready for.” Alyx flipped over the whiteboard. “Combine v Resistance, Our Clever Scheme. Also known as, Operation CROCS.”

He couldn’ta heard that right. The words on the board didn’t change when he blinked. “Run that by me again, we’re calling it _what?_ ”

“Oh, you know.” Alyx said with a grin, she _knew what she was doing._ She pulled out a pair of shoes. There they were. Two white and pastel rainbow with a tie dye print clogs. They were a particular brand. “I kinda had to!”

“Oh he’s gonna get a kick outta this!” Barney picked one up. Lightweight, rubber, and they could be smushed flat. It was somehow _perfect_. “Hopefully.”

“Ha! A _kick!_ I like what you did there.” He was gonna let her continue to think that one was intentional. “Anyway, you’re going to get up there. Give him his shoes right away, he won’t have time to put them on if you’re spotted. We’ve worked out a basic layout of a route out, with a couple optional detours. I’ll be giving you directions in your headset.”

He nodded, _damn_ she was an impressive hacker. Whether or not she got Russel’s help, it’d only been, like, a couple days and she’d already found time to get into this thing? “Do I still get Combine frequencies?”

“Yup! I figured that was important to keep, but uh.” Alyx looked a bit sheepish, “Word of warning, sometimes if you hide from them, they’ll start pretending they think you’re friendly, to lure you out.”

“Pah, have some confidence in me. I’m not falling for _that_ -” His brain finally caught up to his surroundings, for example. She’d crossed her arms over herself. Ah. “You fell for it.”

“Twice.” 

Nothing gives you a jolt of energy like makin someone you care about feel bad, Barney stood up and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, darlin, I’m sorry. You’re always so competent, sometimes I just assume you knew stuff. Forgot more things than I’ve ever learned, that’s for sure!”

“Thanks, Barney, but don’t sell yourself short.” He wasn’t. “Back to uh! Just remember, act natural. I got through most of my teen years by acting like I was _supposed_ to be places. Doesn’t work anymore but no one should suspect you today. Don’t start running until they start shooting. Capiche?”

“Quiche.” He agreed, just to see if she’d notice. Her face scrunched up in a laugh almost instantly! See? Competent. 

* * *

Once they were on, Gordon didn’t actually have any complaints about the crocs. He hadn’t worn any since last time he went on his cousin’s fishing boat, but they were not _uncomfortable._ Bold and strange, yes, but vastly superior to nothing.

Luckily, they blended in with his white socks for the… Most part. It’d just have to do.

He was about to start counting the holes in the top, which meant he was ignoring his problem again. He sighed, and got Barney’s attention. “Before we go, I need to do something.”

“Gordon, you don’t look very sure. What’s up?”

Damn it. He’d meant to Look confident in his decision so he could Feel confident in it. “Last night, Dr Greasy sent me the script for a really bad broadcast. It disgusted me. I want to get back at him. I want to tell the truth for once.”

He met Barney’s eyes. It was risky, it might give them less time to get out before someone realized something was up. They might not get to safety before whoever told Breen about his _first_ fuckup caught on again. 

But Gordon couldn’t live with just leaving, without telling everyone what he knew. The Combine is bad, and he was sorry for ever endorsing them. This message Dr Breen wanted him to give, it was long. It was perfect for saying something heartfelt.

Barney sighed, “Alright, but you be careful, alright? If they catch us, I don’t think we’ll get another shot at this.”

He understood. Gordon was going to do everything in his power to make sure Barney didn’t do all this for nothing. 

One last message, and then metaphorically run like metaphorical hell.

* * *

They’d been walking for what felt like a long time, but might’ve just been a half hour. The scenery changed, but not in good ways. They just saw more Stalkers and Striders. Would it kill the Combine to install some extra colors?

To avoid thinking about that, Gordon had formed a New Opinion! The Citadel should be repurposed into a haunted house. 

Maybe that didn’t make sense, but hear him out. It was big, and dark. Plenty of room to put cheap horror props. You could probably make several haunted houses, with different fear levels for different guests, and still have room for spooky ambiance reception areas. 

The cold meant they could simulate a chilly October evening any given day. 

Yeah, a haunted house would be nice. 

It was surprisingly easy for Gordon to keep a straight face while thinking all this. Mostly because he never actually got scared in haunted houses! Jumpscares set his heart racing, sure, but they didn’t shake him.

He’d always gone with teens from his highschool, or young adults from his college. For some reason, lots of people seemed intent on making him scream. 

Barney once said his quiet nature gave him an air of mystery, that it made him more enticing to rile up. Gordon said that if anyone wanted to rile him up, they just needed to give him a deadline he couldn’t meet. Or, you know, make him do something he wasn’t good at yet. 

Going to a haunted house with Barney, though? 

He glanced at one of the big bugs, _Gunship_ , and put it back out of his head. His eyes scanned always, these days, searching for dangers.

Going to a haunted house with Barney, that would be fun for the same reasons watching horror movies with him was. He was so expressive.

There was an Overwatch Elite coming their way. Not quickly, just coming.

Last time they’d watched horror, it was recommended by one of their numerous coworkers. Barney jumped at the chance to see _the scariest movie in existence_ , just like he always did. He also jumped at the chance to sleep in Gordon’s bed, to “ _protect him._ ” Very endearing.

Gordon nodded once, to the Elite as they crossed paths. They weren’t stopped.

Was it wrong to think of an ex so fondly? Gordon wouldn’t know, he hadn’t had many. There was that lovely young woman from his college days? They’d never gotten quite so close, though.

Barney signaled for them to turn left with a tilt of his head. They approached another elevator. For the most part, they’d steered clear of these. It would be kind of obvious if they just went all the way down to the entrance floor. Alyx must think they could get away with skipping a couple levels? Either that, or she didn’t know any other ways.

Gordon stayed close to Barney’s side as he used the controls, specifically the side he kept his Stick strapped to. No reason. Also, no he had never remembered to ask what his Stick was called.

It was still very jarring to think of Alyx as a full grown adult. One of the last times he’d seen her, she’d used the office printer to print off pictures of the villain of A Bugs Life so she could “make him sad”. He did not ask what that meant.

It’d probably click more once they were in person. Hopefully. 

The elevator passed a good couple floors, and Gordon got an eyeful of Stalkers. It seemed they mostly did machine operation. One of them shot a laser from where its eyes… Could be, and the elevator stopped.

Gordon swallowed, but kept his expression stagnant. Three Overwatch Elite stepped on. Barney took one step back, Gordon took two. He was following his lead.

Then it resumed movement.

The Overwatch weren’t even looking at them. Still, being in such close proximity made his mind race. Gordon pictured grabbing the Stick and hitting them each, tried to map out what would be the best course of action if they turned. Which was the best target first.

Hit, duck. He could attempt a leg sweep, but he wasn’t sure how much bulk they had. A failure could still be off balancing. It could give Barney time to take one out with his gun. Worth considering.

The elevator stopped again. This time, Barney started moving, so he followed. They stepped together on a Light Bridge, he was pretty sure he’d heard whispers of these from one of the former Aperture scientists Black Mesa hired.

His shoes squeaked. He hoped no one noticed. He kept walking.

* * *

“Mr Freeman, did you think we _wouldn’t notice_?” 

There were several consoles in this room. Before, just a moment before, they were all blue.

Now they were filled with Dr Breen’s face, frowning. Gordon’s chest squeezed with fear, and plans darted in and out of his thoughts, incomplete.

“Come back up here, remove those from your feet, and all will be forgiven. I won’t take it to our Benefactors. I think you will find that preferable to other outcomes.”

Breaking the screens would do nothing. That’s all he wanted to do, though. Hand caught in the cookie jar? Shatter the cookie jar. Simple, easy, very bad idea.

“I’m going for a walk, what’s the problem?” _Play dumb, face blank, play dumb, face blank._

As Barney translated, Breen’s eyebrows wrinkled together, and smoothed again. He put on a tight smile. “Of course. Come back up, Mr Freeman.”

The screens blipped back to blue.

Barney started walking, and Gordon followed. For a couple seconds, he could hear faint radio chatter from Barney’s headset.

“ **_He wants you taken in alive._** ”

That was a relief but. "You?"

" ** _Lethal force authorized._** "

Of course.

* * *

They settled into a rhythm, a routine. Gordon lunged for any Overwatch he saw, crocs squeaking on the floor. It hadn’t been a problem before, but they were coated in blood at this point.

He moved so quickly, it was a sight to behold. It wasn’t enough to kill anyone fast enough, though. More of a distraction. Barney just had to make sure to shoot the right thing, keep firing until the literal sound of death rang in his ears. 

Three against two, though, was nearly too much for them to take. Nearly.

Gordon got the brunt of it. Being in close proximity to someone meant they could kick you, and they did. They’d taken out the threat, and Gordon was taking a moment against a wall. It was _one_ way to paint the town red.

“ **_Alyx, are there any med stations around here?_ **”

“ _Honestly, I’m not sure where you are anymore!_ ” Alyx sounded a bit panicked. “ _I’ve never given directions before, this was a_ mistake!”

“ **_Calm down, kiddo, we’ll figure out out. It’s Gordon I’m worried about._ **”

“It looks worse than it is.” Gordon said, holding the Baton awkwardly under an arm. Fresh blood was still trickling down his face, mostly from his nose. “I would like a gun.”

“ **_And I’d like for you to have a gun, but._ **”

“ _They’re linked to your genetics! You can’t use someone else’s-_ ”

He hate to cut her off, but. “ **_He can’t hear you, kid._ **”

“ _Oh, right._ ”

“ **_I’d love for you to have a gun, but I can’t hack genetic codes. Or in general. Either you take mine or we find one that hasn’t been assigned to anyone yet._ **” As he said this, Barney rescued a couple more ammo disks from their dead adversaries. 

“I won’t take yours.” 

Secretly, he was _incredibly_ glad. Speed wasn’t one of his strong suits. “ **_Can you keep going?_ **”

Gordon nodded, and so they continued. 

All the halls looked pretty much the same. They ended up quietly going in circles for awhile.

Down here, there were some walls you’d recognize from traditional buildings. It added a bit of variety, but the underlying structure the Citadel was built on top of was similarly winding and confusing.

 _Combine Eats Office Building_ was a better aesthetic than _Combine Chic_ , but not by much.

At the junction where grimy, off-white tile met navy blue Material™ there was a flash of red droplets. Neither of the floors were absorbent, so it just beaded on top.

Which definitely meant they’d been here before, unless someone _else_ was going around bleeding other than Doctor Freeman over here.

“ _You two_ are _still alive, right?_ ” 

“ ** _We’re goin in circles, Al._** ” He could imagine her face crumpling, “ ** _I thought of two sheep metaphors pretty quick, though, so you don’t have to worry too much._** ”

Gordon wedged the Baton under his arm again. “Did you know ants can get confused by their own scent trails and end up walking in circles until they die of exhaustion?”

“ **_Bad time, Gordon._ **”

“ _Wha’d he say?_ ”

“ **_You don’t want to know._ **”

He kept going. “It can kill a whole colony.”

Barney made the executive decision to go a way they hadn’t before. Just one right turn and there was a door. A real, physical one. “ **_I’ll warn the next ant I see._ **” 

Gordon nodded oddly seriously, and crouched strategically near the doorframe.

“ _Okay now I would REALLY like to know._ ”

It was weird to want to thank a building, but whatever office building this might’ve been had _door handles._ It was nice. There’d been too many potential pathways blocked by force fields Gordon couldn’t get through and Stalkers who really didn’t listen to threats. 

He pushed open the door just enough to throw one of his grenades in. Death rang in his ears. He’d made the right call.

They crept inside to find exactly what they wanted. No one survived the blast. The room was split right about exactly down the middle design-wise, and positioned on the far wall, near some big Combine Approved Everything Proof windows, was a med kit.

The windows were easy enough to duck under, just in case. He had a feeling if you asked them _in case of what_ neither of them would’ve been able to answer. 

Gordon crouched next to the medical station, and stuck his hand up to use it. It was stopped before it made contact.

“ **_Wait._ **” Barney clicked off his mask. This was an important question, he wanted to make the closest thing to eye contact either of them were willing to entertain. “That thing’ll heal everything in place. I don’t think you can breathe out of your nose like that, can you?”

“ _Is that why you were talking about ants?_ ” Alyx asked, and Barney didn’t know what that meant at _all._

Gordon blinked in surprise. “I thought I couldn’t breathe because of the blood?” 

“That’s probably part of it, but it’s also real off kilter. My point is, do you trust me?”

He considered this for a long moment. “With a medical procedure?”

“I mean, okay, yeah that’s. I’m not the kind of guy who seems like he’d know anything but I’ve set two noses before. The reason I’m asking first is because it hurts like _hell_ , Doc.”

“ _Oh!_ ” He could hear Alyx clap on the other side, “ _Tell Gordon that Dr Kleiner knows a guy who can fix an improperly healed nose! Just in case!”_

“ _Neither_ of you trust me? Okay, well, Kleiner knows a guy if I fuck it up.”

“I’ve broken at least eight bones in the past two weeks. Go ahead.”

They’d have to unpack that later. He’d be more concerned if Gordon looked like he’d aged at all since Black Mesa. Still hadn’t asked about that, more important things to talk about. More important long comfortable silences almost cuddling to have. Whichever was more convincing.

* * *

_Maybe they shouldn’t’ve used the medkit up on Gordon’s nose._

Looking out the window, there was a three story drop down to some sort of train station. The trains looked like this same blackish material everything else was made of around here, but with less visible blue illumination. It better be glowing blue on the inside, or Gordon’d be suing for false advertisement.

“Alright, we have two options.” Barney whispered, peeking over his shoulder. “One, get on the train. Probably more stealth involved. Issue is, we don’t know who else’s riding it, or where it’s going.”

That sounded risky as, how Barney might say, all hell, “I hate trains. Option two?” 

“Get down there and bust some heads. There’s gotta be some sort of control on that forcefield generator. If we find it, we can just shut it down and run. Follow the tracks.” 

Gordon peered back out. It was crawling with Combine, they’d probably have to take _all_ of them out to get through. Unwise not to. He found himself grimacing. “Gun first?”

Barney sighed, “Yeah, I guess we really oughtta-” He cut himself off. “Gordon, look.”

Near the door, obvious against the ugly peeling [and now, in some places, stained red] wallpaper, was a black shelf of sorts. It was reminiscent of a wall mounted umbrella stand he’d seen once, with in-built dividers holding, guess what, several guns.

“How did we miss _that?_ ” Barney asked. “Alyx, we found Gordon a new weapon. I think we must’ve been missing them before with how much they blended into the walls. They need an interior decorator in here.”

Gordon picked one up. It had a solid weight to it, nothing he couldn’t handle lugging around though. 

“That, my friend, is an Overwatch Standard Issue Pulse Rifle. Hell of a knockback, but they’re pretty popular from what I’ve seen.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “Alyx says the kids call it an AR2. Either works, point is, I’ve been collecting ammo for that thing this whole time.” 

He flashed him a thumbs up. This was a two handed sort of gun, talking would be… Difficult.

“There’s that dealt with. Try firing some shots into the hall, I’ll be scanning that room down there for entrances. That way, we’ll at least know where we’re supposed to be coming from.” 

Faintly he could make out Alyx saying something over Barney’s headset, but Gordon was more interested in how this thing worked. Remove clip, add clip. Doesn’t store shots when you remove the clip. Primary fire.

Barney might’ve said something, didn’t process it. There was a button on the side, he wondered for just a moment what it did. Hit it and _OH FUCK._

“ _I SAID IN THE HALL, GORDON!_ ” They both instinctually got down on the ground, “Careful where you aim that thing, those _orb things_ DISINTEGRATE PEOPLE!” 

Oops. 

It bounced off the walls, pinged off the windows, but it wasn’t dissipating. Could it dissipate? Would it? Or would they be stuck here until they got lucky enough for it to go through a door?

He laid there for a few seconds, considering the implications of orbs that just travelled the world disintegrating like an evil version of a Roomba, when it just. Stopped. The sound of it rebounding was replaced with a faint humming.

Cautiously, he got to his knees to scan the room. It was still there, but now it was bouncing slowly up and down in a straight line. Finally, he made the connection. He’d seen those power all sorts of things! Now, he just had to figure out what this one _did_.

He removed the clip from his new gun, just in case, and did what any sane scientist would do. Hit the orb out of its receptacle with the gun. 

“Gordon?!”

It bounced off the wall once, and back into its spot. The gun withstood the orb. All very nice.

He did it again, this time turning to the room as he did. Bounce, and the humming was back. He didn’t notice a difference in the room, though.

“...The closest I can describe is he’s playing tennis with the wall.”

So he did it again, and rushed over to the window. Didn’t notice a difference anywhere, tried again. 

Ah! There it was! It was kind of hard to see from up here, but this was powering the train track. Specifically, one of the rail switchers. He’d just redirected the active rail to go to a section where something was already parked.

Barney was standing in the far end of the room, against one of the clean spots on the old wall, just watching. For the best, it was out of the orb’s way when he was doing his experiments. Gordon smiled at him, and readjusted the gun so he could spell out. “P-R-E-P-A-R-E.”

“Prepare? Prepare for wh-”

He didn’t get to finish that sentence, thanks to one very active train schedule, and an innately human desire to _SHOUT IN TERROR._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE NO LONGER NEED GORDON IN THE CITADEL. Society has moved past the need for Gordon in the Citadel!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Not saying much, but it's my longest so far. Next time, I'm serious, we're gonna get to Chapter 2 of Half Life 2!! I swear it!!!
> 
> We're also getting to a part that I'm sure you don't want me to spoil, but I'm also sure everyone is looking forward to! Whether you know it or not!!!
> 
> [Breen, in his office: What do you MEAN he has shoes? WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE CRASHED A TRAIN-?!]
> 
> Patch notes: Added in two sentences because I implied Breen wanted them both dead when the intention was that Breen just authorized Barney's death!


	14. Barney Changes his Name to Waldo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep thinking several chapters in advance? All I can think about right now is Chapter 16, which is an issue, because 15 is not written. I regularly get in my own way.
> 
> In other news. Can you tell which dialogue is a reference to an Official Barney Calhoun Half Life 1 Voice Line? Are YOU a TRUE Barney Simp?

It was amazing how quickly your world could crumble in front of you. Literally! 

In Gordon Freeman’s case, it was more the  _ building _ he was in crumbling. Less dramatic, still terrifying. 

The Citadel was structurally sound, dug deep into the Earth for support. It couldn’t be felled by a simple train, no matter how fast. The poor building underneath never would’ve considered this fate for itself, especially not as old as it was.

Gordon was standing on Citadel, Barney wasn’t as lucky.

It happened in a blur of snapshots. The train. Grabbing the Combine’s console, out of instinct. Realizing where Barney was. Movement, and noise, and rubble, and  _ noise noise noise NOISE. _

He was gone. He was Gone, out of view but maybe other ways too, he couldn’t know yet. He was still shaking from the adrenaline, the overload, the. Oh  _ fuck had he just. Barney Calhoun survived decades of Hell and Gordon? Gordon might’ve been the one to kill him? _

Not again, not  _ again. _

Usually he just got up. Dusted himself off. Analyzed his new situation. Kept going.

Gordon was gonna need a minute.

* * *

People scream in all sorts of ways.

Alyx would put down Barney’s as  _ startled _ with a side of  _ mortal terror. _

Then all that came through was crashing and bending metal before the feed just. Cut off. 

She started switching from camera feed to camera feed,  _ something  _ had to explain what the hell just happened. She didn’t have access to anything inside the Citadel, the camera on Barney’s back was against the wall when- 

Anything, anything?

Doctor Kleiner rested a hand on her shoulder, “Alyx, darling, what ever just happened? That noise startled dear Lamarr out of her nap.” 

“We’ve got bigger problems than her being cranky today, Doc. I’ve lost audio  _ and _ visual.”

Images flashed on her screen, as rapid as she could process em. Security checkpoint, plaza, man in suit, laundromat, pure smoke- Oh?

“Ah, wait, which camera would that be? I have my notes around here  _ somewhere _ , which channel is which.” His voice got a little muffled as he went to search under a desk. “My organization system has seen better days, I’m afraid. This may take a moment.”

“ _ Sure _ it has.” His everything had  _ always _ been disastrous.

“Ah-ha! Eureka, as some might say!” She got a mess of nearly unintelligible notes on a clipboard slid in front of her. Luckily, she’d been training her whole life to read Kleiner’s terrible handwriting.

“This is…” She flicked the screen back one feed, then forward again, so it’d actually say the number code, “Right outside the train station. I guess it runs in the family?”

“What would that be, dear?” 

“Crashing trains. Didn’t Dad tell you about that?” She spared a glance from the slowly moving,  _ very _ interesting fog, to check his expression.

“He certainly did not!” It was righteous, fatherly concern. 

“Huh, weird.” She totally understood why he wouldn’t want to share that whole incident. “If I’m right, though, this could’ve been intentional. I just hope Gordon knows what he was doing.”

“If he is indeed still the same man I knew, Gordon Freeman will have everything under control very soon.” He wrapped an arm around her, “He is a very capable young man.”

The fact she hadn’t heard a death sound before things cut out… Barney could still be alive. Come nightfall, if they weren’t back yet, she was gonna go look. It’d be too risky to go out right now. As it was, she’d just have to trust Gordon knew what he was doing.

* * *

Gordon had no clue what he was doing. 

Some clue, he corrected himself.  _ Some _ clue. He’d climbed over debris before. 

After finding a way to attach his gun to his belt loops, the logic that kept him alive thus far told him to find a way down. There was an intact support beam only a foot or so below him, so he jumped to it. Distressingly, it wobbled under his weight but held.

One step in front of the other. 

There was some distant, feminine, vaguely British voice. He couldn’t make it out much, other than single words like  _ alert _ . He went back to ignoring that, probably not important. 

More important than that, shoes. Crocs had a give he wasn’t used to. They bent in a way his HEV suit boots didn’t. He’d have to watch what was underfoot more than usual, in that case.

Support beam to support beam, to conveniently placed timber. The next level had another Citadel section to leap to, and he managed to salvage some ammo from an intact shelf.

Here was one of the trains, twisted a bit from the impact and covered in an unhealthy amount of building. It was a relief to have a solid surface under him. He stood upon it, took a step, and fell down a hole in the roof. Dang it.

The visibility wasn’t great. Red emergency lights and the blue glow of Combines’ masks both helped, but neither did an awful lot. Luckily, the Combine in here were dead. 

He shot them each an additional time, just to be sure. 

They didn’t jerk in pain, so he was safe to move on. Simple, methodical.

The one on the front-ish end of the car was slumped over wooden shards. Looking around again, he could see some shrapnel in the low light. It hadn’t managed to embed in much.

He carefully dug through it, happy he’d worn his gloves to this party. Aha! One of the shards was painted yellow, and said on it  _ UPPL _ . If there were supplies in here, it was worth digging through.

Navigating this whole situation was sort of a huge disaster. For one, he had stuff  _ inside _ his shoes and it was very irritating.  _ Thanks _ , ventilation holes. Also, he’d been taking identical hallways for granted, the sameness was more comforting than he’d realized. 

For instance, technically he didn’t know if there  _ was _ a way out into the station from this ex-train car. If not, he could probably do something very gross and stack bodies to get out. 

Horrible visual, he’d prefer not to think about it more until he had to try it.

He was pleased with his finds, one vial of Green™ and three grenades. It was basically all he could carry anyway. His pants weren’t designed to hold much. Still leagues better than the jeans he’d grown up in.

There  _ was _ a way out of the car and into the next. It had equally dead passengers, but way better light! Because, lo and behold, it was the end of the train. Cautiously, he poked his head out.

And right back in.

Check his ammunition. Probably should reload before he alerted anyone. 

The enemies out there didn’t look exactly like what he was used to. Their uniforms were greyer. The one he’d seen clearest had their back to him, but he assumed their masks were the same. Point was, they were Combine, and Gordon had a long-ish range weapon.

One shot to the head. Death. Another. Two, three. He’d missed once, but that was fine. Another. Four. He should’ve considered using a grenade. Five. Four of them down.

No others came rushing out, so his gun went back to his belt. The small indicator screen displayed as having ammo. Good. 

Gordon used the now permanently open door, glad he didn’t have to climb for once.

The area was clear again, which meant he could take a look around. There was a big cloud of smoke near one entrance, where momentum implied a whole lot of train was sitting.

A couple more bodies and parts were strewn around than were  _ directly _ his fault. None of them were wearing green, so they were ignored. 

He was a man on a mission. He wasn’t going to leave until he found Barney Calhoun or ran out of ammo trying. Hopefully, the first came. First.

Embracing the train were several, distinct, truly impressive piles of Junk. It looked like a scene from a natural disaster movie, or like a really oddly made diorama of a train going through a mountain range. He’d start there.

Gordon removed his left glove and shoved it in the pocket with the Green™. His middle finger and thumb started snapping out a rhythm as the rest of him carefully placed steps on the debris.

He couldn’t exactly call out his name, so this would have to do. 

Eyes scanned carefully, looking for flashes of color. Red, green, either worked. 

Maybe he should be snapping a Christmas song? He’d been listening to them just three weeks ago. 

There was movement, and he whipped around to face it. Another grey Combine. He didn’t have time to aim properly for their head. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

Five in the chest? Must be some nice armor. Definitely not as nice as the Overwatch’s, though. 

After a few more minutes of looking, twelve shots used, someone groaned. No, scratch that,  _ Barney _ groaned.

All those emotions he’d been pushing to the side came back  _ right now. _ His eyes got a really unhelpful amount of blurry as he rushed over.

He could hear Barney’s breathing. It was so heavy, he couldn’t imagine how he couldn’t hear it across the station. Despite it all, he was smiling. “Sh..ooh, knew you were an angel, d- Ough. Darlin.” 

Gordon shook his head and knelt beside him. “You’re alive.”

“Ah? Well, tha’d.” He swallowed, “Tha’d explain why heaven hurts so much. Lucky the uh. Lucky the rubble broke my fall, I guess.”

For a moment he was lost for words, what was he supposed to  _ say _ to that? He settled for something mature, and eloquent. “ _ I’m sorry, Barney, I’m so sorry. _ ”

“It’s okay, Darlin, I can take it.” Despite it all, despite how this was  _ DEFINITELY  _ Gordon’s fault, Barney reached up a gloved hand to touch his face. “I’ve had worse. I’d love it if you’d help me up, though. This stuff’s... pretty heavy.”

Gordon blinked a couple time to try and clear the tears from his eyes. 

Barney was embedded in the pile, one hand free. His torso, legs, and other arm were completely covered. 

Lucky. Lucky it wasn’t worse. He could easily imagine ways it could've been worse.

He set to moving the debris off, so they could get out of this place once and for all. The whole time, Barney talked to him.

“Alyx’s got this… It’s Eli’s too, but. They’ve got this. Orange glowing gun. Thing. Great for lifting heavy stuff.”

He kept changing subjects, like he couldn’t figure out one he  _ really _ wanted to talk about. 

“Once, when I was a kid, I. No judging but. I was afraid of the neighbors’ chickens. I wasn’t even small or nothin, I was. Twelve. I can’t remember why anymore.”

Another of those Combine officers came into view, and they were dealt with swiftly. Further away, they took 6 shots. 18 used total.

“I used to wear those uniforms, you know? The uh, Civil Protection ones. Since I was undercover as a CP. Always feels weird to see someone wearing. MY clothes. Dead. I guess I should get used to it, but. It keeps happening to me after all.”

Oh dear. Not about the making Barney feel weird, that too, but. He snapped to get his attention. “Your leg looks broken.”

“Damn it. I was hoping my nerves were exaggerating.” Barney awkwardly pushed himself into a sitting position, to look at himself. Legs didn’t turn that way usually, so. “Yeah, that’s. Pretty bad. You’re gonna have to do me a favor, darlin. Look around for healing stations or med kids. Med kits have these vials of green stuff, looks toxic?”

Gordon pulled out his Green™ vial.

“You’re amazing, Gordon.” He laid himself back down, “You’re doin fantastic. Now straighten my leg.”

He flinched back in alarm.  _ He definitely couldn’t be trusted to do that. _

“You’re not gonna get it perfect, doll, but you don’t need to. Once we get to where we’re goin, someone’ll fix it right for me. My priority is being able to stand.”

Gordon wasn’t looking forwards to this.

* * *

Barney really… Really appreciated Gordon. A lot of other people would’ve left him for dead. Not because they were bad folks, but just because of how prone he was.

Delirious, trapped under rubble, broken leg. It was too much for someone trying to make a quick escape. But he  _ hadn’t. _ He  _ hadn’t _ left him.

Somehow this man had decided he was worth it to bring along, three legged race style. This man figured out how to use a Pulse Rifle  _ one handed _ so he could defend them both along the way.

Currently, they were slowly trekking down the train tracks. His leg healed even worse than he thought. The bone wasn’t complaining at him as much anymore but somehow they’d managed to lock his knee when they healed it. All in all, his bad leg just got a whole lot badder.

Barney just kept his arm wrapped around Gordon, kept holding onto the fabric of his orange and brown sweater. Wha’d he ever done to deserve this guy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gang will be all together so soon! Aren't you looking forward to it? Aren't you looking forward to them getting to Kleiner's lab and using the teleporter? 
> 
> You should be, you should look forward to it.
> 
> Don't forget to check out the music playlist! I edited it. https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLqnGeU3n6sbbKBP27B-HYJlIQNAYAC3pL


	15. Family Reunion!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whenever I injure a Half Life character, I start thinking about it in terms of health. I'm imagining Barney as at a solid 45/100 when he first got healed, before that he was at a 10 or less. After walking for so long and DEFINITELY not getting shot at all Gordon haha, he's down to 25.
> 
> He could be doing worse! He's still trucking!

Barney lets him know when they get to the building they’re actually aiming for. They pass it by and try to find another entrance, just so they’re not _too_ obvious. 

“I think Kleiner’d appreciate it if we didn’t bring the whole of Civil Protection to his doorstep.”

Gordon can’t answer, but he agrees. They’ve been persistent and plentiful. He’s had to reload. He’s about to need to again. This gun has 30 shots total.

Part of it could be his one-handed aim. He can’t drop Barney. The man would physically fall over. Forget insult to injury, that would just be adding injury to injury.

They do find a way in, to the roof. Gordon takes the outside while they're up there. The CP aren’t trying to kill him, they’re aiming for Barney. It gives him an advantage.

They make it. This is the basement they want, apparently.

A water machine opens before he can even really register it’s there.

“What _happened_ to you two?!” 

The girl who ushers him inside is pretty, in the same way Azian was. He likes the dyed stripes in her hair. He knows who she is.

“Train. We derailed a train.” Barney answers for them, and the drink-door swings shut behind them. “Maybe more than one? Gordon, didn’t another train go by us? On our way out?”

Gordon nodded in response, his free hand resting over one of Barney’s. The guy wasn’t doing great before, but a long walk during midday was _definitely_ not what the doctor would’ve ordered. 

“Barney, you look _bad-_ ”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Like, you need real medical attention. Gordon.” She met his eyes and held up her hands to ask, “Can you hear me?”

He flashed her a thumbs up. 

“Okay, cool, I’ll keep talking, then. We need to get him to the teleporter. Some of our best medics are at East. DOCTOR KLEINER?” 

The single minded drive to just _get here_ was starting to wear off, and Gordon started to look around and take things in. The loft, the rattling dog crate, the desk which imitating an eye spy.

The bulletin board in the back slowly moving aside to reveal a secret room.

Very nice, he liked that a lot.

“Ah, hello! Mister Calhoun, Doctor Freeman! You got to us in one piece! I was watching for you out the window, you said you were coming by train tracks.”

“More or less one piece.” Barney admitted. He was leaning _most_ of his weight on Gordon at this point. If it wasn’t for all that HEV suit training over the last couple months... 20 years ago, he wouldn’t be able to keep this up. “Neither of us know how to fix a leg. Took a detour! Tried not to lead anyone to ya, Doc, but I don’t think Gordon left anyone to be led!” 

He laughed, and Alyx brought over a wheeled office chair. Gordon made himself set him down in it. It was nice to be able to _see_ Barney grinning instead of imagining it, like he’d been the whole way over. He was very, very torn between being relieved he no longer had to slouch to accommodate Barney’s height, and being worried without the constant reassurance of his heartbeat. This was fine. 

“Let’s not delay a second, then! It’s time to get Gordon introduced to our new teleportation array!” Dr Kleiner turned right back around, finger up in the air. Alyx rolled her eyes, and resumed pushing the chair, now with Barney in it. His leg was still stuck straight out. “It is a marvel of modern technology, and our dear Alyx helped in every way imaginable!”

“He’s overselling it. Mostly I just scavenged for parts.” 

Barney held up a hand as they passed through the threshold. Belatedly, Gordon realized maybe he should be pushing, too. “Whoa, whoa, she’s _under_ selling it.”

It took him a moment to locate Doctor Kleiner again. He was up on a platform, looking at a console. “Indeed! Alyx has made significant mechanical and mathematical contributions! None of us could be prouder. Now, Doctor Calhoun?”

“Oh, what, you’re expecting me to disagree?”

“My, you _are_ a bit _out of it_ , as it were! Is it at all possible for you to stand? I would rather prefer if you did not take my chair with you.”

Gordon felt like somewhat of a bystander. Like a whole lot of a bystander, really. Maybe he was overwhelmed? These were two of the people he’d been most worried about, back then. Issac Kleiner, the closest thing he’d ever had to a real dad. Alyx Vance, his one and only niece.

Most of his emotions were busy elsewhere, or maybe drowned out by the _dreadfearanxiety_. The blinding white pit that he couldn’t see other things through. 

Barney squeezed his hand, and reality came back a bit.

“This is all scary, but we made it. You’ll like it at Black Mesa East, I swear. Lots of great company.” Gordon got his eyes to look at things again. He wanted to see Barney smiling at him, reassuringly. It didn’t disappoint. “Don’t rush through introductions, Darlin. I think Kleiner’s got a gift for you.”

He didn’t wanna let go of Barney just yet, so all he said was, “Sorry.” Gordon didn’t even know what he meant in particular.

Barney’s face now wrinkled when his smiles moved his eyes. He liked that. “I’m alive, you’re alive, the Vorts’ll fix the rest, okay?”

“They practice medicine?” He asked, and then realized it was a stupid question. Anyone could practice medicine. It’d been 20 years. 

He didn’t have time to hold hands again, or retract his question. Alyx popped up with a very, very long pole. “Something like this?”

“You know, I’m surprised he doesn’t have a real cane layin around.”

“I resent the implications!”

“No shame using a cane, Doc! Better than falling!”

Gordon didn’t have anything to say again, didn’t have anything to contribute, but this time it was a little easier to pay attention. Watching Barney try to use a 6 foot pole as a cane was objectively good. 

“That beast better be away, I wouldn’t wanna touch it with this!” He joked. 

Yeah. This was good.

“Initializing.” Kleiner started pushing buttons as soon as Barney was in position. Alyx was slowly spinning in the chair. It was a sight to behold, the rings whirling around Barney like magnets around. Other magnets. 

Then something sparked, and everything stopped.

“Ah, what _is_ it this time?” 

Once again, he’d been blessed so often recently, Barney laughed. “Hey Gordon, I think we need an IT guy in here, huh?”

Oh. It was unplugged.

“Am I missing something here?” Alyx asked. Her chair abruptly stopped, mimicking the teleporter. Her hands started tapping rhythms on the armrests to make up for it. She hadn’t changed a bit. 

Well that was untrue, but he could see similarities.

“So, one time, Gordon Freeman _broke_ a computer tripping over it! He put out an ad for anyone with tech experience, right?” He plugged it back in so he wouldn’t have to see the smirk, embarrassing story time was better when he could pretend he wasn’t part of it, “To see if it was just kaput. Or, you know, see what the salvage was worth. Turns out he’d just unplugged the cord when he’d tripped over it! I spent that hundred on food for a month.”

“He paid you a _hundred_ money to plug in a computer for him?!” Alyx exclaimed.

“You bet!” Barney started glowing, the rings moving faster again. He didn’t look frightened. “Well! See ya on the other side!” 

In a flash, he was gone.

“Eli, do you have him?”

“Sure do, Izzy! Unless the leg is new, he’s alright. Now what did you do to it?”

“Hopefully nothing permanent, Doc!” 

Barney was safe. He was safe, he was on the other side, and he was about to get medical attention. He watched Eli lead Barney to another chair, quipping the whole way.

Gordon’s entire being sagged with relief, and he audibly sighed. 

“Well, now that our friend is taken care of.” Dr Kleiner drew Gordon’s attention again, as he descended from his control panel. The lift was a fancy touch, but he didn’t care to think about that any more. “I don’t have a hundred of anything to offer you, Doctor Freeman. I hope you will instead accept a hug for your IT work.”

There he was, so similar to how he remembered him, but. Different, too. His hair was so much whiter. Everyone’s hair was different, though.

Should Gordon change his hair?

Belatedly he realized he hadn’t answered, and flashed him a thumbs up before stepping forward to embrace him.

“Gordon, it has been a very, very long time.” 

Doctor Kleiner was shorter than him, always had been. The way Issac hugged though, he always made you feel sort of small. He was _going_ to wrap his arms around your shoulders, and that was that.

He’d missed this, too. He thought he’d never get this back. All he could do was nod again, and hug him back, and. Try not to think about how scared he’d been. About how he knew Issac brought Alyx in to work that day. About how he hadn’t seen them at Lambda and assumed the worst. About what could’ve happened.

Another pair of arms. “Hey, am I invited?” Alyx asked, completely rhetorically.

His family was alive. 

* * *

Gordon Freeman was way less stoic than she expected. Or more stoic?

He was a strange combination of moments where he was completely stone faced, follow by intermediate sobbing fits, apparently. She didn’t blame him, there was a _lot_ of dried blood on his clothes, staining his nice sweater. She had no clue how much was his.

From the stories Barney told, she was expecting a jovial man. He could write an essay on Gordon’s laughs. Not that anyone would want to read them.

From the stories the Resistance spread around, she was expecting an unflappable man who never stopped. Always kept moving, always did the right thing.

From her own memories, she expected a gentle, unrelenting smile. The kind of guy who would spend an hour helping a kid remember ps and qs and bs and ds. 

Currently, he was sitting with his back against the wall, tears still fresh on his face, listening to Doctor Kleiner’s full users manual for the Mark V. Cautiously petting Lamarr.

He was _actually listening_ , though. Attentively. He looked like he wanted to take notes? 

Gordon Freeman, The One Free Man, Opener of the Way was just a sad little geek. She’d have to get used to that. And, you know, tease her peers later about their _Freeman doesn't cry_ nonsense.

* * *

They visited, drank water, and ate food until Gordon wasn’t shaking anymore. He needed it, he needed this rest. He needed to listen to people talk, to log information. To be reassured that he wasn't alone.

He even liked petting a headcrab. Lamarr ran off at some point, he was torn between feeling disappointed and relieved. Headcrabs were scary, _totally harmless_ or not.

He was ready to see Barney again, though. To finally get a real chance to talk, without the Combine over their shoulders. About everything that happened. About maybe getting Gordon a medical textbook so he wouldn't fuse someone's leg straight again.

So he suited up in the new Mark V, left his stained crocs behind, and got in position.

Gordon’s teleportation sequence went well until it didn’t.

“Doctor Kleiner, Lamarr’s back!” 

When Lamarr jumped, it was too late to do anything. He didn’t have time to react, to throw her back out, to jump out himself, _anything_. All he could do was lock eyes with Alyx and hope it wasn’t the last anyone saw of him.

Then the desert, there went Lamarr after a bird. Everything looked green, he didn’t have time to really question why when.

Back in Kleiner’s lab, the teleporter was so loud. 

“He’s back!”

“They haven’t fused into something unsightly?” Kleiner exclaimed, as if that was a definite possibility.

“IS THAT WHAT HAPPENED TO THE CAT?”

Then-

Barney, still green that hadn’t changed, slouched in a chair. Eli was next to him, they both looked so worried. “Darlin- Oh no, oh shit, stay still! You’re not supposed to be green, but it’ll be-!”

He didn’t get to hear the rest, because now he was somewhere familiar.

Breen’s office, he didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want Barney to get injured just so he could be _here again._

Doctor Breen’s eyes widened in surprise, and he stood up. Just like their first meeting. “Mr Freeman? I don’t know how you do this, but your stunt was _not_ appreciated.”

Back at Kleiner’s.

“GORDON! Grab my hand!” Alyx was already reaching for him.

“Don’t you dare! It’ll peel you apart, I’m not _losing you to that!_ ”

“What _can_ _I DO_?”

“This happened to me once!” Barney shouted, over the communications, “It wore off for me, but Doctor Rosenberg implied-!”

Then Gordon was falling, into the ocean, in front of one of his least favorite types of fish, desperately trying to get control of his limbs back. _If he could move, he could swim. If he could swim he could live._

Then he was back in front of Dr Breen. He was turned away from him, looking at the screens. Talking to something. “You’re not doing it? Well-” He whirled around to face him, “Mister Freeman, there will be _consequences!_ ”

Gordon shook his head, couldn’t this man understand that this was the _last thing he wanted?_ What part of this looked intentional, what _part of-_?

Then he was standing on sand, and there were large bugs. They made sounds of alarm, they started to run at him. They were beautiful. He felt fear.

Then he was looking at Barney again. 

“HE’S HERE, SHUT IT OFF SOMEHOW!” He screamed, desperate, afraid.

Gordon made a decision. This might be his last chance. “I love you.” 

Then Gordon was in the dark, he couldn’t see, only green, only the extra tinge of green. 

Then Gordon was on a balcony. 

“Where is he?!” Doctor Kleiner sounded more upset than he’d ever heard him.

“Turn around!”

Gordon was on a balcony, things were blue instead of green and he finally had something to hold onto. He used all his strength, everything he had, to pull himself forwards with his hands on the guardrail. Like moving through syrup, or molasses. Like moving through that pitch that only dripped once a decade.

There were flying things, mechanical, they flashed, hurt his eyes. He recognized the sound. A picture, they’d taken his picture. They'd found him again.

“Run, Gordon! I’ll catch up!” Alyx shouted, and he believed her.

Every step was a struggle, but they got easier and easier until they were normal, until he was running. _Go go go go go._

Back to his new mantra. Run, think, shoot, survive. Run, think, shoot, survive. 

He wanted to see Eli again. He still wanted to see Barney.

Run, think, shoot, _survive_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh? Whuh? Somethin... Bad happened with the teleporter? Wh-uh-huh-wha? I can't believe this, this is so surprise. No one saw this coming, how could this be happening?
> 
> Hopefully this was alright to read. It's hard to really give off that "horribly disorienting teleporting" vibe without making everything Fast.
> 
> It's MY fic, /I/ get to declare that Gordon spent at least an hour winding down at Kleiner's with Alyx before he decided to go through!


	16. Enroute Canal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hand you this chapter and then scurry away back into my box. It says on it, "Will Answer Direct Questions".
> 
> This chapter is 16... It's old enough to drive.

Alyx’s heart was beating pretty fast right now, like getting to a shelter when the sirens went off. Except she was going _out._

“Gordon and I’ll take the long way. It’ll take no time with two of us.” Backpack, gun, health pens, all here. She smiled for Dad, looking worried on the other end of the screen. “I’ll introduce him to the locals.”

“Be careful, honey.” She couldn’t see it, but she knew Dad’s hand was over the pocket he kept Mom’s picture in. “Please.”

Her smile slipped. “Always.”

“Hey, I left Gordon’s crowbar out back!” Barney called, raising an arm and waving in the background.

She flashed them a thumbs up. “Got it! See you soon!”

See you soon was one Alyx liked a lot. Goodbyes were too much, too often. See you soon was reassuring. If you said it well enough, it even sounded like you meant it.

Alyx slipped through the doors behind the teleporter, slid under a boarded up entrance Kleiner used to make things seem More Abandoned, and ran up the metal stairwell that led to outside. This used to be a boiler room, now it was half boiler room, half ill-advised storage.

The metal steps shook as she bounded up them, clanging under her boots. She didn’t need to be stealthy right now, so why bother? Enjoy the clang.

The door to the balcony, also known as Kleiner’s Vine Experiment, squeaked when it opened. Gordon, who was running past, didn’t even turn to look. 

“HEY GORDON! Barney sent me with a message!” _That_ got his attention. She grabbed the crowbar leaning against the wall. It was heavy in a reassuring sort of way. She could see why Barney would keep this. 

By the time she was looking at him again, he was shooting down a Scanner. 

“He said you needed one of these.” Alyx held up the crowbar with a flourish, and then down for him to grab. “Specifically this one. Heard someone _famous_ held it once.”

Gordon smiled a little after she winked, so he definitely picked up on at least _part_ of the joke. 

“Also I’m coming with you.” He smiled wider, this one looked a little more less fake. His eyes actually relaxed. “Help me down?”

He held up one finger and turned right around. Back towards Kleiner’s “backyard.” There wasn’t exactly much room to get lost back there, so she just sat tight. 

It really wasn’t long at all before he emerged carrying a crate, one of the long ones, and placed it tall-ways.

“Great thinking, Gordon!” She pulled herself up onto the guardrail, and dropped down onto it. He was holding it steady, which was nice. From experience, though, crates didn’t tend to betray you. Barrels, on the other hand.

It was only after she jumped the rest of the way down that she realized he’d been holding a hand out to help her down. 

“Force of habit.” She wasn’t sure if jumping small distances made her bones stronger to withstand longer distances, but she felt like it _had_ to. 

Right, not the point. He was looking at her. TO her. “Here’s the plan. We’re gonna need to go through the old canals, it’s the escape route we’ve been using for years. Ever since we got the teleporter up last week we’ve been dismantling it, but there should still be a couple folks manning their stations. Plenty of supplies, too!”

He said something back. 

Oh boy, this was gonna be harder than she’d anticipated. He talked so _fast!_ “Could you run that by me again, slower this time?”

She felt kinda stupid. He said he liked supplies.

“You and me both!” 

Gordon’s face took on a serious expression. “N-E-E-D S-P-E-L-L?” It was slow, but hey, at least she knew the alphabet.

Alyx found herself grimacing. “Unfortunately? Maybe.”

This time, she caught all his movements. “Sign first, spell next?” 

“Oh, sure. I know most of the combat important ones, conversational sign is just really new.”

Gordon gave her a thumbs up. That one she understood perfectly, thank you.

* * *

The trainyard was _more_ packed the second time he passed it. Though, this time he was cutting across instead of going longways. It balanced out. An hour was definitely long enough for new CP to take over dead ones’ shifts.

Run, cover. Find who’s shooting. He was the one in brighter clothing, Alyx was faster, he got hit twice in the chest. That was fine. 

He’d lost the HEV’s helmet with its useful heads-up displays at some point during Black Mesa. Woken up in the trash compactor without it. They probably took it from him so they’d notice if he came-to.

So, it was gone. No helmet. What he was wearing right now was somehow the same suit he’d gone through all of that _mess_ with. 

After days of gauging his body’s limits from 1-100, he could still imagine what it’d say. He was at a very solid 94, probably in part thanks to the 25% battery charge he’d started with.

The train passed. Three more CP. Made a jump. This was fine, he could do this.

* * *

Alyx had this strange tendency to manually un-board doors with her hands. She was wearing gloves, sure, but they were _fingerless._ He had concerns. 

“Force of habit.” She’d repeated with a shrug when he’d raised his eyebrow and held up the crowbar.

It got darker as they went down a stairwell, probably into the basement of another building pretty similar to Kleiner’s. If he was guessing. Which he was. Both he and Alyx clicked on their flashlights at the same time. “Yeah, let’s not trip during _this_ trip!” 

She looked so proud of herself, so of course he had to smile back.

* * *

It was like Gordon had an on/off switch. One moment he’d be leaning against a wall, inspecting where the paint was chipping off his crowbar’s handle while she sucked the juice out of a med station. Only Combine ever came around here, no harm.

The next? 

_“Leave us alone, we didn’t DO anything!”_

He cautiously peaked around the doorframe at the end of the hall, and was off like a rocket. By the time she could follow, he was standing over three dead people, two CP one civilian, and one _alive_ person.

“You’re Gordon Freeman, aren’t you?” She asked. Her eyes were wide, and she was clutching the other civilian to her chest. She wasn’t crying, but Alyx would bet that was just because her brain hadn’t caught up yet.

“Yeah. Don’t tell anyone you saw us.” Alyx picked up one of the two CPs’ guns, handed it to Gordon. Slid the other to the lady. “Good luck.”

She just shakily nodded, and looked back down at her friend.

Gordon was already half up the next flight of stairs, already killed another CP. His swift efficiency was, honestly, really starting to scare her. She was _really_ glad they were on the same side. “Yeah, those things are too low-tech for a genetic lock. Which is good, way more ammo around.”

He nodded once, then glanced back at the tunnel they’d just been in. He holstered his gun. He said something like “It’s gotten very bad.” or “I didn’t know it was so bad.”

“Yeah, they’re not always like that. I guess those guys were low on their beating quota?” Gordon’s eyes widened with alarm. 

“ _WHAT?_ ” 

“A little CP brutality keeps people down pretty good, so it’s standardized. It’s a monthly thing.” She’d gotten used to it, but from the way he gulped, the way his eyebrows raised, this was very unusual to him. It sucked he had to come back to this. “Yeah, I know. Let’s keep going, buddy.”

* * *

Alyx jumped into the canal from the train tracks like it was nothing. Gordon, meanwhile, was standing on a platform across the way. There was a door over here, but it wouldn’t budge. No knob, and it didn’t splinter much with a little help from his friend the crowbar.

“Just jump!” She called up, “It’s abandoned in there, anyway!”

Felt really weird to have someone who actually _knew_ where they were _going._ Sure, Barney knew where he was going on the way to Kleiner’s, but he was also only half paying attention to his surroundings.

Gordon jumped down.

The water was startling. Cold, unlike everything he’d jumped into outside Black Mesa. Colder than a healing pool from Xen. He managed to keep himself from gasping, but only just. 

“I forgot to ask if you knew how to swim.” 

He flashed her a thumbs up, and grabbed onto a floating pallet. He _could_ swim, but the suit was _heavy_ so he would prefer to have a little extra buoyancy helping him out. 

Alyx started paddling ahead, still so purposeful. “Last one to that shipping container is a rotting corpse!”

What the hell.

* * *

Gordon was a rotting corpse, turns out. Unless there was anyone _else_ racing Alyx he should know about. He just couldn’t catch up, especially with her head start.

 _So smug._ It made him wish he’d won tag a couple more times when she was a kid, when he still had the full grown adult legs v kid legs advantage. “Alright, alright, it’s probably for the best I won, anyway.” 

She started climbing the container with, _fantastic_ , a ladder. He really hated those things. “Watch out below!” She shouted, and then jumped down into the container. 

"Alyx Vance?!" Someone asked from inside.

His footsteps were ridiculous on top of this container. Metal on metal, _clang clang clang._ He didn’t like it. 

“Not just me, but also!” He jumped down. There was a mattress to catch his fall. “My brother!”

“As I knew would happen, I have been graced with the Freeman’s presence.” 

There was a lot to take in. This little storage container was decorated, with a radio on a desk, and posters covering the walls. They had Breen’s face, but he was frowning. RESI-

He couldn’t see the rest of the word, but he figured he understood.

More importantly, there was a human man and a _Vortigaunt_. Also Alyx saw him as a brother? Her smile was suddenly very tight. 

The Vort was tall, but hunched. They shifted their weight, and grasped one of the human’s hands with their own. The human spoke this time, “Yeah, my Vortfriend here wouldn’t let us leave just yet. Now that you’re here, we’ll be looking for our window to visit Kleiner.”

“Ooh, that might not be- Now’s not a great time?” Alyx glanced at Gordon, “We’re coming through the hard way for a reason. Do you have supplies to hunker?”

“We are prepared for many eventualities, the Alyx Vance should not bring herself to concern. We are greatly hidden, and all of those in Station One have evacuated as instructed.”

“I’m sure you can handle yourselves. Stay safe, okay? It’s been pretty wild out there.” 

This was incredibly surreal. What felt like last week, Gordon had been being zapped half to death by someone of this same species. He couldn’t keep track of how many he’d gotten with trip mines or just shot down.

The Vortigaunt’s eyes met his own.

“We no longer fear the Freeman, as long as he endeavors to stay on the right side.” 

“I understand.” He signed back, he was. It felt like he was in a trance. Probably was just brain stuff, but right now _felt_ important. “I’m sorry.”

“We cannot forgive the lives the Freeman cut short, we can only move forward into our best future.” If Gordon was paying attention to the other humans in the room, he would’ve noticed the glance Alyx sent the Vort’s boyfriend. “The Freeman should be watchful the path he takes. Someone _must_ die. Someone must be left behind.”

“Alright! You got that, Gordon?” He nodded, faraway. “We’ll puzzle it out as we go. Thanks for the tips! Stay inside until they give up on getting Gordon back! Tell East we were here!” 

She pulled him with her, out the sliding door that lead to _beyond._ To someone’s required death.

If he’d listened, he would’ve heard the Vort’s boyfriend say, “I hope it was worth it, babe.” If he’d looked, he would’ve seen arms wrap around each others’ shoulders. He didn’t, and because of it, the two of them got to keep the moment to themselves.

* * *

They had been crawling through wide cement tubes. As close as he could figure, they were large storm drains. They lead into small rooms, furnished only with grass and trash. The first one they dropped down into without incident. 

The second one, the grate above them was broken. The CP dropped several barrels into the water. 

He’d gained a lot of respect for exploding barrels recently. They were as useful as they were dangerous. He’d taken out a bridge with them. Gotten some guys off his tail with them. Alyx had just taken out over 5 barnacles with just one, impressing him greatly and also grossing him the hell out.

Everything was too fast, Gordon couldn’t think anything except _no_ as he grabbed Alyx’s hand and dragged her over to the opposite grate. The next one that fell was on fire. They didn’t have any time, she might’ve said something, all he could hear was his own blood rushing past his ears.

They weren’t completely out of the water when the barrels exploded. Instead, they were clinging to the grate on the opposite side. One of his arms went up to shield her neck and head, leaving the other to lift his whole weight. 

He maintained it, until the explosions stopped, and he could afford to move. Afford to scramble out of the water for real.

The grate he’d been clutching for dear came loose at some point. It let him back into the safety of a drain without issue.

Both he and Alyx fit into the pipe, just like the last one. She was shaking. He was shaking too.

She opened her mouth to talk, but all that came out for a moment were shaky breaths. Alyx swallowed, slipped on a tight smile, and tried again. “Why’d we- Aren’t you supposed to get underwater when-?”

He shook his head, maybe a bit too hard, his ponytail hit his glasses. “No, no. Misconception. No. Shockwaves rupture organs in water. Being underwater protects you from bullets, but not blasts.” His hands were shuddering, with adrenaline. Horrible, useless. He probably couldn’t even fully understand himself. In through your nose, out through your mouth. “O-R-G-A-N R-U-P-T-U-R-E.”

Alyx looked rightly horrified. “Well! Haha, thanks? For… I was gonna dive down.”

Gordon peeked out the other end of their little tunnel, past a convenient pallet giving them cover, and found, lo and behold, the CP dropping more barrels into the part of the canal they’d be diving into next. He turned back to Alyx with a grimace. “More barrels.”

“They’ll run out eventually.” Both of them visibly jumped when one exploded. “In the meantime…” 

She pulled her backpack around front, and out came an actually pretty lovely pink pouch. He didn’t expect to see something vibrantly pink, though it was ruined a bit by a greenish stain in a corner. He couldn’t judge that.They both ignored the next explosion. “I’ve got a couple health pens. Used to throw away the shells when I was done with em, but ever since the Combine’s switched over from using antlion grubs as healing, their stations are _way_ easier to get stuff from.”

Her voice still sounded shaky, her hands were still trembling. He could only imagine how her legs ached without the suit to protect her. He was suddenly very glad how many shots he’d taken for her. 

“Tell me more.” He asked, when she looked back at him to offer him one of these _health pens_. “Grubs as healing?”

She grimaced, “Yeah, pretty nasty. They make such cute sounds when they’re alive, it made me _feel bad._ Because they make _even sadder_ sounds right when they _stop_.”

The pen was fairly light in his hand. A good thing, probably easier to lug more of them around. 

“Oh, wait, have you ever used one of those?” He shook his head, and she demonstrated on one of her own arms. Kind of like an epi-pen, easier. She pulled out another one, full, and handed it to him. Her hands were a bit more steady, now. “I’m at a solid two point five now, how about you?”

“On what scale?” 

“Huh?”

“O-u-t o-f?”

“Oh! Sorry, I used to have this thing that told me what my vitality was at. Max was three hearts. These heal one.”

Out of three hearts, each would be 33%, right? He was at about a 29. “One.” 

She handed him another, and he stabbed it right into his neck. Only available skin other than face. Alyx snorted, “Hey, if you put the other one a couple inches up and they scar, you can be like a werewolf, right?”

Like a-? Hm. He humored her and stabbed himself in a different spot the second time, an inch or so away. It was fine.

She giggled a little, too excited for something so small. Undoubtedly half adrenaline. “Yeah, that’s right, I know all about Halloween Monsters.” Alyx sounded very proud of herself, “I know em all. Witches, wizards, werewolves, Frankenstein’s scientist.” 

He couldn’t help his own laugh. Frankenstein himself _was_ the real monster, he’d give her that. “What’s your favorite?” 

“Favorite? Uhh, I’ve, um, never thought about it before. My least favorite is probably ghosts.” She started rearranging the health pens in her little pouch. Or, big pouch. “I hate to think souls stick around after death.”

There was weight to those words that he wasn’t used to hearing from someone his own age. Gosh, she was _his own age._

“What about you? Favorite?”

Gordon’d always liked zombie movies. They were fun in _theory_ , damn it! ESPECIALLY ONES WITH AWFUL SCIENCE FICTION CURES. Felt so wrong now, though.

“When did I become your brother?” He deflected.

“I was hoping you hadn’t noticed.” He had. He was enjoying not being the one made slightly uncomfortable.

“I uh. So, Kleiner always calls you the Son he Never Had? I think it’s half to validate _me_ , you know, as his daughter.” He heard the unspoken part. Validate her as a girl. “But because of it, I’ve been kind of thinking about you as a long lost brother?” 

It was clearly not her preference to be actually looking at him for a reaction, but he was glad she was anyway. He wasn’t sure if he could snap in the HEV suit to get her attention.

“I always had you categorized under niece, but.” Gordon smiled in a way he hoped was reassuring. “I’d love a little sister.”

“COOL!” Her voice squeaked. “THAT’S COOL! Glad we agree, very nice. Can we stop talking about this?”

“I like your hair.” He tried. She relaxed a little. “The red is very pretty, and I like the headband. It suits you.”

“Oh.” One of her hands absently reached up to touch it, “Thank you. You know, once we’re at East, we can get yours dyed, too? I’m thinking orange? I make my own dye, it wouldn’t be too hard to get it to be yellower.”

He blinked in surprise. It hadn’t occurred to him he could _do_ that. Back at Black Mesa, West he supposed, they’d had very strict dress codes. Casual Friday just meant you got to pick what print of tie you wanted to wear. That was gone now, for better or for worse, it was all gone. He could dye his hair a _color._

Gordon felt himself genuinely smile. “I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gordon will ask "is anybody gonna haul Alyx out of the water and shield her vulnerable neck from excess shrapnel?" and then not wait for an answer.
> 
> Every time I get to that part of Route Kanal where they drop all those barrels on you, I go "THIS ISN'T WHAT YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DO!" as I dive under. It's not! Your fragile little organs don't like shockwaves through water! Gordon is a physicist, he gets to know this, as a treat.
> 
> ALSO. The Vort and human that direct you to Station 1 on the Railroad are DATING. There is ONE bed.
> 
> Additional note, Resistance Kids have their Own sayings. Last one there is a rotting corpse makes more sense than rotten egg to someone who grew up on non-perishable government issues rations.


	17. Questions, questions!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! I outlined the next three chapters at once, got overwhelmed, wrote half of a mermaid au oneshot, and got someone to proofread for me [thanks, Tuna]. Long couple weeks!
> 
> It's still so funny to me that we're on Chapter 3 of Half-Life 2, and we're on Chapter 17 of This. The gap is only gonna get longer, I'm spacing certain things out in different ways! I have big plans for something coming up soon!

Inside of tunnels and corridors felt  _ infinitely _ safer than outside. Gordon had been Hoping his being-chased-by-black-helicopters days were behind him, but apparently not. 

“I thought they wanted you back alive!” He could hear the Chopper’s shots ring off the door Alyx’d slammed shut behind them. “Those things aren’t  _ so _ bad, they’ve got horrible aim and a recharge time to take advantage of but. Once one of those is after you, you’re  _ usually _ done for.”

Gordon nodded. Someone sending an entire helicopter to gun you down was usually a bad sign for your chances, in any situation. 

“Well! I guess we’re taking a detour.” 

“Do you know the way?” 

“Huh?” She asked, and turned to climb down a ladder. What he was asking seemed to click a moment later, “Where are we? I think you’d call it Bulgaria. It’s not really important anymore, since we’re not in contact with anyone else.”

That was absolutely not what he asked, but he’d take it. 

She climbed back up a minute later, smiling tightly. “You should be glad I didn’t send you down there. Ick!”

“Did you find anything?” He asked, and gestured to the Lambda symbol sprayed on the wall. She hadn’t explained it, but whenever they’d seen one, they’d found supplies. 

“You bet! Two health vials and a dead guy!” Alyx was having a very hard time with the  _ look at Gordon when you’re talking to him _ thing, she’d started off further into the tunnel system. 

Everything was lined with dark gray stone and, if he wasn’t mistaken, it felt cooler in here than outside. 

“Stick by me, and keep an eye out. We don’t use this way much anymore, too many Barnacles.” 

Well, at least he got his question answered. She half knew where she was going, which was honestly good enough for him.

* * *

Tunnel, tunnel, glimpse of outside, tunnel. It was all blurring together. Stone corridors that smelled bad followed by more stone corridors that smelled bad.

Alyx’s cheer was barely audible over her exploding barrel. “FOUR OF THEM! I  _ told _ you the last one was a fluke! Beat  _ THAT _ , Gordon Freeman!”

Well, luckily for him, there was another row of them, perfect for immediately beating that, Alyx Vance. Unlucky for his nose, though. 

“How do you stand the smell?” He asked, and then grabbed hold of another barrel. It slid easily along the ground, slick as it was with…  _ Something. _ Gordon had a feeling he wouldn’t like the answer, if he knew what it was. 

Distantly, he longed for a time where he’d calculate the viscosity of this stuff based on barrel speed. For fun. He’d like to know, but he definitely didn’t have the time.

The Barnacle did what it did best, and Gordon shot his barrel twice, to set it ablaze. 

“What?” Alyx asked, turning away just in time for the explosion. Three Barnacles screamed in unison as they perished, which was satisfying. There were still two alive. She’d won for now.

Somehow, though it seemed  _ impossible _ from how bad it  _ already was _ , he could smell what they expelled onto the floor. It mixed with the gasoline stench, from the barrel, to make what would probably be  _ the _ least popular scented candle in existence. “S-t-i-n-k-y.” He said simply, and gestured to the seven dead things, all lined up in the hospitable eve they’d found. 

Alyx laughed a lot, he liked that. He liked spending time with jovial people. “You still have a sense of smell, huh! Poor guy.” She pat him on the shoulder twice, and carefully started down the slope. He followed, on the other side. Couldn’t risk knocking into her.

“I’m not sure  _ exactly _ when it happened, but at some point I lost mine. Dad thinks I inhaled something.” She fired two shots, and another one down. “But  _ I _ think I smelled too many things, and my brain gave up.” 

He fired three, from his pistol. Another death. 

“Either way, it’s not a bad deal. I can actually stand Ration Bar Number Seven, with half of the taste missing.” Alyx stopped to pick up a round of ammo, shaking it twice to try and get the  _ gunk _ off. “Doesn’t make this any less gross, though!”

None of the droplets hit his face, thank  _ goodness _ . She’d just raised a whole slew of new questions for him. “What is seven supposed to taste like?”

She slipped the now dry _ ish _ round into her backpack and said, like it should be obvious, “Pizza.” 

The Combine messed up  _ pizza? _

* * *

“You’re a physicist, right?” Alyx asked, sitting on a  _ very _ uncomfortable pile of rubble. She was gonna make it work. “You don’t need  _ my _ help making gravity work!”

The look Gordon gave her was truly amazing. He was weighing down one of the resistance’s patented, whatever that meant, seesaws with cinder blocks. No one had actually explained patented to her, it was just a joke old folks made sometimes.

He made short work of it with the suit’s sprint feature, and enhanced strength. Maybe it was immature to not help, but she had lifted those same cinder blocks while helping people through this route what had to be dozens of times. 

Gordon went on ahead,  _ still looking so put out _ . She felt powerful. 

That feeling soon went away, though. As she followed him under a shadowed bridge. He was still using the sprint, so he got into the sunlight faster. Maybe a little too much faster.

Alyx thought she’d be happy to be in the light of day again. Blue-ish sky, fresh-ish air. All prescribed by your local doctor.

Gordon was the most local doctor to her, though, and she had a feeling he wouldn’t prescribe an encounter with seven or so Combine, up above them, truck bed  _ loaded _ with barrels. 

“ **_SURRENDER, FREEMAN._ ** ” One demanded, voice amplified through his mask. The CP standing nearest to him took a visible step back from the volume which, admittedly, cut the tension a little.

Or, nope, tension was holding strong. The only thing between her body and getting hit with those barrels was that little door-flap trucks had in the back, holding the barrels from falling. She was sure it had a name, everything did, but she didn’t know anyone who  _ used _ a truck. 

These were all just regular CP, but they had numbers, and the upper ground. Also, a truly deadly amount of explosives. Not to mention, armor. 

For a couple moments, Alyx stood statue-still. Gordon was the one out in the open, she probably hadn’t been spotted yet. He was the one the guns were aimed at. Some little part of her insisted she keep it that way, that it was safer to be silent. Hide in the shadows, don’t get spotted. As long as  _ you _ make it…

“ **_HANDS UP OR WE TAKE YOU THE HARD WAY._ ** ”

No, she was better than that.

Gordon’s hands didn’t have the chance to raise very far when she darted out of her hiding spot, heart pumping, and pulled the trigger, over and over, as fast as she could. Aiming right at the barrels.

The CP didn’t have time to scream, one explosion combining with the rest to make a sound so loud her ears had to take a moment. It was worth it, though. 

Gordon sighed in relief, smiled at her. “Thank you.” He said. Looked very tired. She didn’t blame him.

Her legs were shaking a little, from the weight of  _ doing the right thing _ , but she smiled back. “Anytime! But, uh, I vote we keep moving before their buddies show up.”

You know what? Alyx was very glad she wasn’t alone, and she’d like to keep it that way. She hadn’t known him for very long, but Gordon would absolutely do the same for her.

* * *

As they strolled down abandoned corridors, jumping railings and cursing ladders,  _ one thing _ kept swirling around in Gordon’s head. 

They’d just been a whole heap of danger, as Barney might put it. They had been the whole time, really, but having so many guns trained on him at once? When he wasn’t ready for it? 

He was shaken, alright? Alyx saved his life. If she hadn’t been there, he either would’ve went with them and eventually died by trying to do what was right… Or fought his way out. 

Without the element of surprise, without trip mines and grenades, he would’ve been at a disadvantage.  _ Was _ at a disadvantage, until she’d thought fast and used their own explosives against them.

She turned to look when he clicked his tongue a couple times. “You need something?”

Gordon shook his head, but… No, he did need something. Answers, maybe? “How do you stay so cheerful? How do you keep smiling?”

She’d been living like this for  _ twenty years _ . It’d been a couple weeks for him, and he was getting to his breaking point. He was starting to get very, very tired of explosions and gunshots and thwacking things.

Her expression softened, “I have to. If you’re asking what I think you are.” She looked away, kept walking, peeked around a corner. “Things are bad, sure, but? I’m not alone. Everyone tries  _ so _ hard.”

Alyx didn’t meet his eye, as they climbed up onto a pipe. He held his arms out for balance, but she didn’t seem to need to. 

“You remember my mom, right? Azian Vance?” She asked, completely rhetorically. But, of course he did. “Xenobiologist. She was in high demand when I was a kid, before she. Well. Ever wonder why Kleiner keeps Lamarr around?”

He hadn’t wondered, actually. Issac Kleiner was a strange man.

“She was hers, first. Do you get what I’m getting at? I’ve got to have a happy life for her, and for my dads, for Barney, for my friends. For me.” 

Finally, she turned her head to look at him. “Do you get it?”

Gordon nodded. He did. He got it.

“Good!” Alyx hopped down onto solid ground, and kept going immediately like it was nothing. “We  _ should _ be getting close to where Station 2 used to be! Just around that corner.” 

It didn’t look like much. A room with some discarded planks in a corner, a lambda on a wall. The door at the far end was strange, it looked sort of hodge-podge. Also, it had a slot, like in movies, for checking who’s on the other side. It was open. 

“Come help me dig out anything they left!” Alyx called to him, knelt next to the pile. Again, her gloves were fingerless. How was she not worried about splinters? “This used to be a two or three person station, in its heyday. Before Barnacles really started moving in, I mean.” 

None of the wood was heavy, there was just a lot of it. He opted to move it from one corner of the room to the other, for mobility reasons. It would be silly to create his own trip hazards.

“A full med kit, Gordon!” Alyx exclaimed, holding it up. “These come with small bundles of bandages, just in case the juice isn’t enough.” 

Another thought was spinning in his head, nagging him to say it. “Alyx. Thank you for saving my life, earlier. I’m not used to help. I appreciate it.” He was sure the sincerity showed on his face. Back in Black Mesa, it was everyone for themself. He tried to help people when he could, and sometimes he got injected with frightening experimental healing drugs in return, but that was basically it.

“I’m- MANHACKS!” She exclaimed and jumped to her feet. Gordon swiveled to see what she was shouting about.

Smallish, flying machines. About the size of his head, with spinning blades. Alyx started shooting it, and when another flew in, he followed suit.

“About to save it again, I guess!” The machine got a little more sporadic with one shot, and fell with the next. “They’re usually just distractions when Combine are around, but they do sting!”

Second down, third down, but they kept coming. “Try shooting one, and switching to the other.” 

That wasn’t a bad tip at all. When he hit one, it went careening like it hit an obstacle. Gave him a moment to hit the other, and repeat. Four, five, six. The way they bounced off of walls, it kind of reminded him of a Roomba. 

Seven, eight. Death Roomba wasn’t a horrible name. Did the Combine care about copyright law? 

Nine, ten. There was no more whirring of blades, no more metal-on-stone sounds. Just the two of them, in a room, surrounded by wood and metal. “That’s all for now, but with how bad they want you back I’d bet there’s way more.”

“I’m so excited.” 

Alyx’s snort of amusement meant she definitely got his sarcasm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Combine and Jelly Belly Jelly Beans have something in common! Tried making a pizza flavor, absolutely failed. It's one of the BAD flavors in their Beanboozled things! I won't tell you which one, but it's pretty obvious from the colors.
> 
> Also, I'm projecting onto Alyx. My sense of smell is practically nonexistent, though that's a sensory processing thing for me. Not a fault in my nose.
> 
> Next time on This: Boat!


	18. Laugh at the Freeman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 18... My story is old enough to vote! If you're a US resident who's old enough to vote, or will be by Election Day, please do! Please oh my goodness Please Vote!
> 
> I miss writing Barney :(

Wallace would’ve preferred to keep this to himself. Breaches of security did not happen at the Citadel and if they did, it wasn’t for the populace to know.

Mr Freeman, however, didn’t seem to know _discretion_. He would be taught, once he was returned to their care.

At present, Wallace was incredulous. It had been several hours now, since his little stunt, and he _had not been taken back in._ Neither alive nor dead, and they kept losing track of him! It was enough to make a lesser man’s blood boil. However, Wallace was above such things.

There were no preconceived procedures for this state of affairs, but. Well. He had a couple ideas in mind.

* * *

They emerged from the tunnels again, and the radiation warning started crackling on Gordon’s chest. 

Alyx looked down and, sure enough, there was a pit of shiny, toxic, green and brown gunk. There were countless ponds around here filled with the stuff, and this base in particular was nestled right in one to act like a moat from the old childrens’ stories.

“We’re here!” She announced, and shot Gordon a glance. “Cover your ears.”

One thing she liked about Gordon was that he listened. Did things right when you asked. Flashed him a smile, and took a deep breath.

In, and out. In again, and she shouted at the top of her lungs, “ _HEY JIMMY!_ ” Without turning to look again, she gave Gordon a thumbs up. 

Theoretically, somebody _could_ jump their way to safety using some of the surrounding stuff. Some of those jumps were a stretch, though, so this was way easier. 

A wooden thing they called _the spindle_ was thrown into the goop. It was two round pieces of wood connected by a tube, also made of wood. She wasn’t sure what its purpose was before, but it was buoyant enough to hold pretty much any human or vort that came this way. 

They’d been experimenting with making the top bigger so it could hold multiple people, but that made it harder to throw. Prototypes had been discarded, things aren’t useful if they’re cumbersome.

She hopped down from the tube they were in down to the small piece of land underneath. Wasn’t much of a drop. “Wait up there, I’ll go first!” From this angle she couldn’t see if Gordon responded at all, but, you know. Good listener.

Jimmy’d actually thrown it pretty good this time, wasn’t too far to jump to. Often, he had to pull it back and try again. As usual, the top part of the spindle held her weight above the liquid's surface, and she was slowly dragged to the base. 

“Look who the me dragged in!” He came into view, looking exactly like she remembered. Clean shaven, dull brown beanie to hide his bald spot, just like a Jimmy should.

“Oh if you think _I’m_ something special, get ready for him.” 

Jimmy shook the spindle off, luckily hazardous gunk didn’t stick to things. Would’ve caused a whole heap of new problems. 

He grinned at her and threw it again, “Oh, I know we’ve got Freeman. I’ve heard on the radio-” It didn’t go as far as it should, and they both knew it. “Ah shit, well…” 

Alyx didn’t see exactly what happened, but she _heard_ the splash. It wasn’t the Spindle, it was in sight, which must mean he was in there with _nothing to grab._ “GORDON. DON’T GO UNDER!” She quickly snatched the rope from Jimmy, pulled it that last tug, and chucked the Spindle as fast as she could. A bit of the Gunk splattered on her hands. It burned, but she didn’t care. 

As soon as she felt the Spindle bob, she _pulled_. Jimmy helped, thank goodness.

What they got was a shaking orange mess. Not the best introduction, but he was alive. Alyx helped Gordon further away from that stuff, until his geiger counter stopped going off.

“Thank you.” He said. And then he said it four more times. His hand was shaking. 

“It’s okay, we’re even for the organ rupture thing now.” She got him leaned against a wall, and pulled out the healing pouch. Jimmy showed up with a medkit the next moment. “Thanks, Jimmy.”

He sighed when she got him hooked up to it, and slumped a little further. Alyx could only imagine how much that must’ve hurt. 

With him stable, and with health pens in reach just in case the kit wasn’t enough, she stood up. 

“Sorry about that, Miss Vance.”

She wasn’t who he should be apologizing to, but whatever. “Are you running low on anything around here?” Deflection through business! 

“It’s just the two of us, these days, but we’re still running low on shotgun shells.”

“Isn’t everyone?” She quipped, started digging in her bag, and threw him a pack. “That’s half my supply, thanks for the medkit.”

Speaking of, she looked back down at Gordon. He was regulating his breaths, and shaking less. Both good! She followed his gaze, and he was… Looking at a bug?

Bugs were nice, that should relax him while the healing kicked in. He’d be fine.

“Anytime, you know that.” Jimmy patted her shoulder. “Now, I should really get back to watching. Everyone’s been on high alert ever since-”

He didn’t get to finish that sentence, before something crashed down on the base. Fog filled her vision instead of smoke, she could tell the difference on her face, which must mean. “We’ve got Headcrabs!”

“Elenora’s by herself with the Mudskipper!” Jimmy exclaimed and, before she knew it, Gordon was running. Gun in one hand, crowbar in the other, health pen bag clutched between his teeth. It was amazing how quickly he could get back to combat. It was _scary_ how quick he could get back to combat.

On the bright side, she wouldn’t be worrying about Ellie.

* * *

No new headcrabs had emerged from the bombs, or from the ground, in a few minutes. All four people on site survived the experience. Gordon would mark that an absolute success.

Elenora lost her hat to a headcrab. It’d been close, but she’d survived. That was all that mattered. 

His crowbar was still in hand, just in case. Alyx relieved him of her bag. [He didn’t like holding things in his mouth, but he wouldn't abandon something after she trusted him with it.] 

They were now in the… Hanger? Nothing had ever taught him what a garage for a boat was called and, at this rate, maybe nothing would.

Elenora was refueling the boat now. She was young looking. Maybe twenty-one? Closer to Alyx’s age than his and Jimmy’s, that’s for sure. 

With all her supplies back in place, Alyx practically skipped over to the airboat. Several more metaphors came to mind, but they could all be summed up with _she looked really excited._

Gordon didn’t immediately see the appeal. It looked… Interesting. Skeletal metal frame, buoyant white things on the bottom, fan on the back, one seat. A bit of a hodge-podge, but in an endearing way. Like most of what he’d seen of the Resistance so far. 

“You’ve been taking care of her, right?” Alyx was looking it over like it was _hers_. Like an overprotective aunt after her niece borrowed it for a joyride. Looking for new scratches on the paint job.

“It’s only been two weeks, Alyx!” Elenora replied, surprisingly jovial for everything they’d just been through. It might be an adrenaline high, actually. 

She put an arm over Alyx’s shoulder and leaned in to stage whisper, “ _I haven’t let Jimmy near it._ ”

“Hey!”

“Well!” Alyx pointedly ignored Jimmy, “You’re in for a treat, Gordon! The Mudskipper’s the best thing I’ve ever driven.” 

“Good.” He said, smiling back. Then something about her wording clicked. “Wait. Do you expect me to drive the boat?”

“I was trying to be polite.” Elenora nudged her with a knowing look. Alyx rolled her eyes, “Okay, fine, and I don’t think I’ll win arm wrestling against the HEV.” 

“Alyx. I can’t drive.”

Her head tilted. “Right now or?” 

“Never learned.” There was a moment of silence before Elenora started laughing. It was a pretty laugh, but he didn’t like that it was _at_ him. Now he knew how Jimmy felt. “R-u-d-e.”

Alyx, who’d been hiding a smile behind one of her gloved hands, held them up in surrender. “I know, Gordon, you’re a real person with strengths and weaknesses. It’s hard to imagine you on a _bus_ though.” It was Alyx’s turn to whisper to her, “He just fell in the gunk, Ellie, be nice.”

He crossed his arms and turned to see what Jimmy thought of this, so that he wouldn’t have to continue seeing what the girls thought of it. 

Only, he was nowhere to be found. Which made sense. Jimmy probably went to keep watch like he was supposed to. This meant one thing. Gordon had been abandoned.

He’d never _needed_ to drive, was the thing. He’d grown up with public transit, and Black Mesa had its own tram system. In fact, cars were discouraged in Black Mesa. If you could get away quickly, you could spill Government secrets quickly. In retrospect, that flag was red. They'd had good health insurance, though.

The bigger, more secret reason he’d never learned to drive was simple: It seemed scary and he didn’t want to be in charge of something with destructive power if he didn’t know how to use it right.

Again, in retrospect, that was ironic. Two weeks ago he’d put some sort of living alien weapon on his arm that shot _bees._ Cars probably weren’t so bad.

Alyx got his attention by snapping. She was picking up his mannerisms, which was cute, but also he was still grumpy from the toxic goo and having to leave that interesting beetle and also _this_. 

“Come on, let’s get going. Sit in the seat, I’m shorter so I’ll be on your lap, and I’ll handle the controls, okay?” 

With anyone else, he might’ve balked but. You know what? Today was already so weird. So much had changed in the 20 years he’d been gone, why _not_ keep Alyx Sitting on His Lap as a constant. As long as she was steering, it’d be _fine_.

* * *

_It was not fine._

Gordon didn’t know how to drive, sure, but he wasn’t sure if Alyx was much better. He didn’t know what he expected, she’d been a kid when everything went to the Combine. There would’ve been no drivers school, no written test. 

Alyx drove _fast_. She flew, sometimes literally when there was a ledge.

Suffice to say he was out of his depth.

“WOOO!” She informed him, and drove _right through a wooden barrier._ He wanted to ask WHY she wasn’t worried about SPLINTERS, but had to settle for clutching the metal frame for any semblance of support. Like handles trams have, like buses, things he was used to.

A red structure came into view, and a few moments later he realized it looked like a barn. She drove through another wooden barrier. There was someone standing up there, on the balcony.

He only had a moment to think about why they looked familiar before she was _driving UP a RAMP and FLYING THEM THROUGH THE FUCKING AIR AGAIN._

Lucky for his blood pressure, she stopped soon. In a pond of clear water. He found himself laying against the headrest, taking in calming breaths. Distantly, he registered that was a bridge over there. Very cool. 

Alyx unbuckled them, “That next ramp up ahead’s lifted by buoyant blue barrels. Bbbs. No one calls them that.” She stepped out onto a slab of concrete he hadn’t even _noticed_ with practiced ease. “So, it’s currently set for one. Go get some of the extras from that pipe, okay?”

He put a foot on the concrete, got himself upright, and quickly found that boats float however they want when left unattended. Specifically, right now, floating _away_ from the place where his other leg was.

All that to say, Gordon fell in the water.

Alyx was clearly stifling laughter when his head resurfaced and she offered him a hand. It wasn’t that deep, actually and he found himself grateful he hadn’t managed to hit his head on anything.

She gestured again to the pipe with a little smirk, so he went.

It was dark inside, but no bodies. He was very appreciative of that. He was tired of turning on his flashlight, aiming it a direction, and seeing a corpse! This was not something anyone should be dealing with!

The barrels she was talking about were made of plastic. Small and baby blue, very light. Probably filled with air. He chucked them out the other exit of the pipe, and directly into the water.

The pool the ramp was in looked deeper than the natural part of the stream and his hair was already wet, so he felt good about jumping in after them.

It wasn’t very difficult to figure out how this was supposed to work. There was a cage of sort, set up with netting on four sides, and barrels trapped within. He made relatively quick work of putting the ones he’d just grabbed in there. Air filled barrels weren’t cooperative, but what was these days?

This time when he came out, Alyx was halfway across the natural pond. She was picking up pieces of _something_ and putting them in her bag.

He waded over to meet her.

“Hi, Gordon. Have any trouble?” She was surrounded by parts of what might’ve been a Scanner. 

He shook his head. “Question. Do people live near here?”

“Huh? You mean the barn, right?” Alyx picked something up, then tossed it to the side, “That used to be Base Seven, but we’ve been closing the Railroad now that we have the teleport array. No one lives there anymore.”

Well, huh. That just made him more curious about that mysterious figure. Alyx shoved one last thing in her bag, and closed the button. “Why, are you thinking of buying some real estate?” 

“Yes.” He deadpanned, and this time was happy to get a short laugh.

Alyx winked, “I’ll let my lawyer know! Get you a referral.” A little off, but she was definitely close. He’d give her that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's MY story, I get to declare that there are less people on the Railroad so I don't have to write Alyx watching people she knows die. 
> 
> Thanks again, Tuna, for not having ever played Half Life and telling me when I need to describe Half Life Things more.
> 
> Poor Gordon's so tired, and he hasn't even seen what Breen has planned! He's not gonna like it.


	19. Breen Attempts a Roast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my story! And for leaving almost ONE HUNDRED SIXTY comments! I say almost because I've responded a couple times, but.
> 
> It means a LOT. Every comment someone leaves, I physically write it down and put it in my "Positivity Jar" for when I'm having bad moments. So, you know, super appreciated.

Every time Gordon thought he was close to getting used to Alyx’s driving, she did something new. Back on the Mudskipper, they’d been running into CP again. Literally. She was running them over. 

Wooden structures were set up along the waterway. They were just platforms on stilts. She was breaking those, too, and leaving the Combine on top to fall in her wake. 

One thing he respected was how hard she was making them to aim at. So far, only one shot connected with his shoulder, despite the sheer number of enemies stationed around here.

They passed the first real, substantial building since the barn, only to come across a huge pair of metal doors. They were tall, and smooth. No handholds, didn’t look like they could be scaled.

“Damn it! I didn’t know there were doors there!” The Mudskipper went from going forwards to backing up with no stopping in between, and before he knew it they had parked next to the building. 

He took it in. No clear first story entrance, might be solid concrete. Chain link fences up top. Concrete walkway to ladder to second story. Simple. 

Alyx unbuckled herself, and hopped out. “Alright, Gordon, looks like we’re gonna need to brute force it.” She grabbed hold of one of the bars of Mudskipper’s top, steadying it as he got out. Thank _goodness_.

“Thank you,” Gordon said, as soon as he was on solid ground. 

“No problem.” She let go of their boat and just let it… Float in the river. He swore in movies, they always tied boats to things. They didn’t have any rope, though, did they?

“They _always_ leave those doors open, I didn’t know they had them.” Alyx said conversationally, and started climbing the ladder up. She was so fast with them, he always ended up lagging behind. “I’m starting to think they don’t usually try.”

Soon enough, they were up on the walkway, and he took the lead, pistol out. Slowly opened the door, peeking around behind it so he wasn’t just potentially exposing himself to a room full of enemies.

There was no one in there. 

It was a nicely sized room. Screens on one wall, shelving on the other, windows and a door facing the rest of the building. He didn’t see anyone through the windows, but he got himself situated next to the other door just in case. They wouldn’t be able to see him at this angle.

“No healing, a couple pistol rounds.” Alyx whispered from over by the shelves. She’d turned her back on him and the room, probably expecting him to watch it. Oops.

He flashed her another thumbs up, he didn’t want to holster his weapon while they were in enemy territory. She hadn’t explicitly said it, but judging from the screens on the wall, this was solidly a Combine base.

Almost as if he’d done it himself, the screens changed from their serene blue to Dr Breen’s face. 

“ _The very fact that it is_ **_I_ ** _telling you this news should indicate for you that something is amiss, and indeed it is. We now have direct confirmation of one or more disruptors in our midst._ ” Breen’s eyebrows were furrowed, his hands crossed seriously in front of him. It was like he was lecturing them.

Alyx’s eyes met his own. _There weren’t any cameras in here, right?_ She handed him a couple of the rounds she’d just pilfered, and came to stand beside him, back to the door.

“ _Gordon Freeman has been kidnapped by a man pretending himself a revolutionary. Barney Calhoun used his position in Civil Protection to get close to Mr Freeman. To overpower, and abduct him._ ” 

Barney’s face replaced Breen’s, unmoving. He was frowning, and in a uniform Gordon had only seen on CP. File photo.

“ _In Mr Freeman’s tenure at Black Mesa as one of their most promising young scientists, he spent an unfortunate amount of time with Calhoun. Perhaps it is their past companionship that caused him a lowered guard._ ”

Companionship? Gordon found himself glancing at Alyx, trying to convey to her a “are you seeing this?” Something must’ve been funny, she snorted a laugh.

Dr Breen’s face came back on screen, looking incredibly grave.

“ _Do not misunderstand, it was an uneven relation. The sort a_ **_leech_ ** _might find with humanity. Calhoun’s character was drenched in that which we are moving past, every action imbued with instinct. His already unsavory character has curdled, however, with time and with jealousy._ ”

Lip reading wasn’t perfect. It was pretty flawed, actually. But he was _certain_ he saw Alyx mouth to him, “Leech?” She was grinning. He could tell that afterwards, they’d be making fun of this together. He tried to pay attention.

“ _Calhoun would brand himself a sheep, but do not be fooled by his coat. He is a wolf, preying on the weak of mind and will to gain power for his so-called cause. He has gathered strength and pounced on that which we hold dear._ “

“ _Shall we let him get away with one of our own? I think not. We should all gather together and do our part, running this wolf and his despicable pack Out Of Town_.”

“ _We ask for you to keep out an eye for this loathsome man, to report any sightings of him or anyone else with Gordon Freeman._” Another picture flashed on screen, this time of Gordon half slumped forwards. His hair was a disaster, glasses broken. There was blood running down his forehead, and he could tell even from this distance that he was crying. 

Wait just a minute. 

“ _We simply want him back with us, safe. Civic deeds do not go unrewarded. And, contrariwise, complicity with his cause will not go unpunished. Be wise. Be aware. After all, we only want to help._ ”

The screen flickered, and turned back to blue. “Well, they don’t know to look for me yet.” Alyx quipped.

That picture was of him, after his Mistake. Not only had they beat him, they’d kept a picture? That was just bad form. He put that aside, the feelings that came with it, to nod. 

It _was_ very good. He’d prefer none of his loved ones were targeted, but he’d settle for some of them. “Let’s be careful, keep it that way.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice. Now, ready to find the doorknob?” 

When she said it that way, it sounded easy. “Absolutely. Stay behind me.”

The door to the rest of the building didn’t squeak, it was lightweight. Probably too flimsy to use as a shield. Maybe he shouldn’t have hid against it? Oops.

There were two more doors in front of him. To his left, an unmanned, mounted gun. To his right, an ammo crate. Obviously, they’d check out those doors. What could he say, he kind of enjoyed looting.

There was a chair, bolted to the ground. Surrounded by blood stains. Eugh. Gordon put his back to the wall and watched the door. 

“So, correct me if I’m wrong.” Alyx was taking ammo off the table, inspecting it momentarily to see how full it was. “You and Barney dated, right?” 

The few seconds before she looked back _hopefully_ gave his expression time to go from panicked to calm. He was Not used to people knowing about it, he could probably count on two hands how many people they'd decided were safe enough to know. “Right. Technically, we never stopped. Why?”

She cleared her throat, “ _Past companionship has caused a lowered guard._ ” It wasn’t actually that bad of a Breen impression, she’d practiced. “You _declared_ _your love for him_ on a broadcast, I have no idea who Breen thinks he’s fooling.”

“I did _what?_ ”

Alyx jerked her head towards the door, time to move on. “You don’t remember? That camera test. Right before you went missing for a couple days.”

Things were starting to make sense. 

Alyx snagged some grenades as she passed that big ammo chest. That answered that question. The next room was a storage closet, with plenty of crates.

“Usually I throw those until they break,” She gestured with one hand, holding two grenades, as she attached a third to her belt. “But we’re trying to be a little stealthy. Open them with your crowbar.”

Simple enough. He holstered his gun, two-handed worked best with the crowbar. Swung back, and broke one open.

“Gordon! Gordon. Wait.” Alyx held up a hand, this time grenade-less. “Do you know how to use a crowbar?” 

Oh fuck, did he.

What she meant hit him quickly, not unlike a blunt force realization. Leverage, prying, it was not lost on him. Gordon just hadn’t _thought_ about it in awhile now, why it was shaped this way. What the original intended purpose was. It was just something he hit other things with, now.

Alyx crossed her arms, once again visibly holding back laughter, and watched as he gave it another try. It was slower, but much, much quieter. He definitely understood why she suggested this.

“I don’t think you’ll ever understand how funny that was. To a Resistance kid, anyway.” She was right, he probably never would. 

“Sorry I’m not cool, I’ll do better next time.” He was growing to accept that he had _a reputation_ he wasn’t ever going to understand fully. People gossiped about him for 20 years. It was fine. 

Well, it wasn’t, but he had more crates to open.

“That's not what I meant. You're not uncool, you're just...” He slid an opened crate to her with his foot, "I'm not thinking of anything better."

"I've been called worse." Gordon hoped his smile was reassuring as he gently patted her shoulder. 

After that, they worked in silence to rob the local Combine blind. It was sort of satisfying, the moment when the glue gave out and a side popped off. It was also satisfying to be directly disregarding what Breen wanted, which was to _not_ take supplies from his military. 

Every bullet they took was one that didn’t hurt someone! 

Soon enough, they had to progress, though. As the one with the high tech body armor, Gordon was the one tasked with peeking around the corner. There was a strange vehicle, somewhat familiar, and. Oh fuck. He quickly retreated. “Camera. It might’ve seen me.” 

Alyx sighed, visibly deflating. She seemed… Disappointed? “Green light?” 

“Yes. Also there’s a large, black car.”

“Dang, okay. It’s probably an APC out there.” Gordon had no idea what that meant, “Set the silverware, we’re about to have company.” 

Not a bad line! It would’ve been better if she’d dramatically cocked a gun. Instead, she just pulled her pistol out. Good enough.

* * *

Fighting alongside Gordon was _fun_ , actually. With another competent shot by her side, Alyx didn’t have to play as defensive. When she went to throw a grenade, he covered her. When a manhack came his way, she took care of it for him.

_“Like I said! Distractions!”_

Through the power of Teamwork and also Lots of Explosives, they got the doors open. Also, a siren! And Combine reinforcements.

Alyx could say a lot of positive things about Gordon. He made effective uses of cover, but he _didn’t_ know how to handle a mounted gun. Lucky for them, that was one of _her_ specialties.

They were an unstoppable team!

“I feel like there’s nothing we _can’t_ do, you know?” She said to Gordon as they buckled back into the Mudskipper, with everything of value from an entire Combine station in tow. 

He tapped her shoulder, and pointed behind them. Oh. A Hunter Chopper.

“I guess I'll have to drive fast, huh, Gordon?” 

Her laughter filled the air as the Chopper’s shots hit water instead of boat. The Combine was no match for the fastest driver in the Resistance! Alyx liked it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been having fun taking Breen's speeches and rewriting them to fit my contextual needs. Which is good! Because Breencasts are sort of the whole point of this AU, right?
> 
> We're almost to the end of Water Hazard, I've just got a couple more scenes to incorporate. 
> 
> Formal apology to everyone who threatened Breen not to hurt them last time, on the next line.
> 
> >:3c
> 
> Now that you're done with this, head over to this youtube video and watch it. It's worth your 33 seconds, I swear, and it's captioned. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AsMXY71m2NU


	20. Gordon is Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so to get here we actually skipped a chapter because I hate writing action. Here's what we missed.
> 
> -Dr Breen sent literally as many helicopters as he had at them.
> 
> -when the gun got mounted, it got mounted on top of the boat. Vort thought that's how two people were riding, because that's totally how they would've done it.
> 
> -Gordon almost gets eaten by a Barnacle [he's fine]
> 
> Now we're caught up! Now I don't have to spend another month trying to write those things. We get to go straight to the good part.

After taking down maybe every Hunter Chopper in a 20 mile radius, Alyx made the executive decision that they  _ wouldn’t _ be taking any more detours. Gordon fully supported that. He was  _ exhausted. _

The sun was setting when they pulled up to a nondescript, gray building. It was beautiful. He also didn’t want to fight in the dark again, it never seemed to go well.

Alyx helped him down with a tired smile, and started leading him around back. “Everyone inside’ll be super excited to see you, stick by me and I’ll get you new clothes and a shower.” 

Gordon nodded. His hair was crusted with all sorts of dried fluids, his sweater underneath was still covered in blood, and after those things were taken care of? He wanted a nap.

They weren’t inside, which meant they weren’t safe. He kept an eye on their surroundings. There was a spray-painted lambda back here, surrounded by Resistance posters. There was the classic  _ RESIST _ one, but he also spotted a couple he hadn’t seen before. One of a Combine soldier across from a child, painted over to have the soldier's face crossed off.

Very nice. 

They walked together into a smallish room. Something made a beeping sound, and the door behind them slammed shut leaving them in the dark.

Gordon grabbed Alyx’s arm, he’d just seen her,  _ he couldn’t lose track of her _ , and pulled out his crowbar. 

Then the lights flickered on to reveal they were in an old fashioned Black Mesa Decontamination Room, overseen by a person behind a window. 

“The dark is my least favorite part, too.” Alyx whispered, and patted his shoulder. Well.

At least he wouldn’t be made fun of it later? He had honestly forgotten the Standard Black Mesa Screening Protocol, with the fog and the lasers. Black Mesa Employees only had to rescan when they left and visited town. With how sprawling a complex it was, he’d only left a handful of times. Less and less, once he started dating Barney and stopped going to the One Local Gay Bar.

“Alyx! You’re really late.” The person behind the glass exclaimed, “It’s been a  _ long _ shift, I could speed this up?”

She shook her head and pointed up at the glass, “Don’t you dare, Taylor! Isn’t Mossman supposed to be on by now, anyway?”

The scanner beeped once, and the lasers started back up.

“Yeah, but she’s not here. Got stuck on the wrong side of the teleport!” 

Now, this surprised Gordon, Alyx smiled and gave him a shoulder bump. “Hear that? We’ll have some peace while we’re doing the repairs.” 

Once again, Gordon was out of his depth. Everyone was silent during the rest of the decontamination process, so it didn’t matter that he had no idea who could possibly be named  _ Mossman. _

“Looks like you’re both… Clean!” The door opened with a hiss, and Taylor came out of their booth to greet them. “Well, of parasites and Combine bugs anyway. Great to meet you, Freeman!”

Taylor had a patch on their shoulder that said,  _ they/them. _ That was… Very cool! “Nice to meet you, too.” 

“Me and Gordon need to go get clean in general, want me to send someone up to relieve you?”

They visibly slumped, “Would you do that? I don’t even know who’s supposed to take over.”

“Of course!” Alyx lead him onto a freight elevator. This must’ve been a supply entrance, back in the day. 

“What a lifesaver!” Taylor waved as Alyx pressed a numbered button. “Say hi to your dad for me!”

The elevator went down, passing a kitchen, a recreation area, some sort of power generator. Every level, someone stopped to wave at them.

It was confirming a hypothesis of his. Alyx was a popular person. 

He tapped her on the shoulder. “Who’s M-o-s-s-m-a-n?”

“She’s one of our scientists, but-” Alyx cut herself off when Eli came into view. “Tell you later. DAD!”

The elevator came to a halt as he turned, face lighting up in a smile. “Alyx! Come over here, baby.”

He was so much older. It made sense, it’d been twenty years, but half of his hair being white? Was a little jarring. Another new detail, he’d lost his leg. Fuck, he’d missed  _ so much _ .

Eli and Alyx collided in a hug, and Gordon started looking around instead of looking longingly at the two of them.

This was an incredibly tall room, for one. There was another Vortigaunt in here, typing on a keyboard. The teleporter he was supposed to come through was right there.

“Come here, Gordon. Let me get a look at you!” As soon as he was in range, Eli’s hands were on his shoulders. “You haven’t changed one iota. Except the glasses, those are  _ definitely _ new.”

“I hope I wasn’t this grimy last time.” He said, because none of his other thoughts were suitable. Did you mourn me? What happened to Azian, or your leg? How many presents do I owe everyone now? 

“Hmmm.” Eli looked thoughtful, “Hard to say, your suit used to have a helmet! You know, when I sent you up for help, back in Black Mesa? I thought you’d be coming back a little sooner!” He laughed. There wasn’t really anything funny, but laughing was better than crying, so he smiled back. 

“Dad, I was thinking we’d get Gordon cleaned up and out of the suit. After how many things we just did, I think he needs a nap.”

Gordon nodded very seriously. “She’s right, I need a nap.”

Eli laughed again, and his hands fell back to his side. “Alright, alright. Well, come back after you get some rest. We’ve got a couple new developments in teleportation tech you’ll be interested in!”

That sounded really nice actually. “I look forward to it.”

He meant it. The sooner he could get back to being a regular scientist, working on regular science, the better. 

* * *

Gordon didn’t want to take the HEV suit off again. It felt reassuring, having a protective shell over his vital organs. 

He was being silly. He knew he was.

“You don’t need help with the latches, right?” Alyx placed a bundle of clothes on the counter. “You’d have to tell me what to do, I’m not super familiar with Hazard Suits.”

The in-built sinks were just the same as he remembered from Black Mesa West. One of them was replaced with a freestanding sink, though. Looked like it might’ve been salvaged from someone’s house. Lots of things looked salvaged around here, but it wasn’t always  _ bad. _

Gordon tore his gaze away from a spot where tiles had been taken from somewhere completely different, and shook his head. “No, I can get it. Thank you.”

“No problem. Alright, well! Call me when you’re ready! Soaps in the cabinet, I know how much old timers like their privacy!”

She slipped out before he could ask her what she meant. Too many questions, about what that meant for  _ her _ generation, about how twenty seven could possibly count as an old timer, and most importantly how he was supposed to call her. He hadn’t seen a functioning wall phone the entire time he’d been here! In the future, specifically, not just this building.

Gordon showered quickly, not thinking about where his body ached and why. Not thinking about the miscellaneous substance that found their way under his suit and what it might be composed of. Some of the blood came off his sweater, though, which was a plus. It was very soft, he’d like to keep it.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that they had a water heater around here. It hadn’t been something he’d been thinking of in the Citadel, but he’d definitely miss it if it was gone. Gordon might’ve stood under the spray a little longer than necessary after he was done cleaning his clothes with cold, enjoying being pleasantly warm.

* * *

Gordon  _ had _ managed to figure out how to call Alyx, by banging two pieces of his armor together. She'd made it clear that he'd picked one of the _funniest_ ways to get her attention.

More importantly, she told him Barney was ready for visitors.

Despite how hard he’d been working to get here, back to Barney, he suddenly found himself. Scared. It was probably just his body’s natural response to coming down from an adrenaline high, didn’t make it less real.

So here he was, peeking into the room with the door partially open, like a creep.

Inside, the light was dim. A single lamp, plugged in next to Barney, was trusted to illuminate the whole room. 

Not that there was much to see, anyway. A simple hospital-style bed with a single beeping machine next to it, a folding table laid out as a night stand, and the obligatory Uncomfortable Visitor Chair. The screen on the one machine was cracked, but it displayed vitals just fine. 

He didn’t need the monitor to know Barney was alive, though. He was sitting up a little, propped up on pillows and folded, bunched up fabric. 

No use delaying. Gordon opened the door a little wider. It squeaked.

He was suddenly made aware that Barney was holding a knife, along with a piece of wood. The knife was the more important part, it was being held up in a threat display.

Gordon could probably pinpoint the exact moment Barney realized it was him, his expression became unreadable. “Gordon?!”

_ Nearly _ unreadable, he was upset. Gordon slipped inside, and into the Uncomfortable Visitor Chair. “Hello, Barney.”

“Don’t you  _ hello Barney _ me!” The whole woodworking project, knife included, was discarded onto the bedside table. “I thought you were a goner!” 

Alarmingly, Barney grabbed his upper arm and pulled him forwards, forcing himself to awkwardly hold himself up with an arm. Face to face. “Stop  _ scaring _ me, Doc.”

He shakily nodded, it was really all he  _ could  _ do. Their faces were  _ so close. _ Barney’s grip was not faltering. 

“I mean it, I.” From this distance, Gordon could hear him swallow. Could see his Adam's apple bob. Maybe it was his imagination, but his eyes looked glossier than usual. “I... Please don’t leave me again, Gordon.”

Gordon rested his forehead against Barney’s. He  _ really _ missed the simple warmth of another human. Barney sobbed. Him too, probably.

Barney’s arms wrapped around Gordon’s back, and he was pulled down onto Barney’s chest. His arms were trapped at an odd angle, he couldn’t hug Barney back unless he got up a little, so he settled for grabbing his shoulders. 

It was an ugly cry. The kind someone had when they were just  _ done _ . Loud and messy, full of hiccups and shudders. 

Gordon always hated moments like these, he never knew what to  _ do _ when someone just finally had enough. Just finally had to cry about it. 

This wasn’t about him, though. Wasn’t about the tension, the confusion he felt. That he always felt when it was time to comfort someone. This was about Barney, who he’d scared out of his mind, apparently.

He gently ran his fingers through Barney’s hair, in a way that was hopefully reassuring. A minute or so later, he got up the gumption to adjust so he was supporting himself with his legs a little more, careful not to jostle either of Barney’s under the covers.

One hand in his hair, another carefully pressed to his cheek. He couldn’t sing or hum for him, but he was physically here. And it was okay that Barney couldn’t make words to say how he felt, or what he needed. Gordon would be here while he felt it.

Distantly, he noticed someone open the door to their room. It was shut again, subtly. Good. He’d probably be embarrassed later. 

After what felt like maybe forever, after Gordon’s knees were shaking a bit from holding him from putting  _ all _ his body’s weight on Barney, sobs turned to sniffles. 

Barney gave him one last squeeze, and finally loosened his grip. “It’s so good to have you back...” He whispered, and Gordon propped himself up to look at his face.

His face was pink, eyes puffy. So relieved, like a man offered water on a long hike. Gordon tried to smile back reassuringly, lovingly. He  _ was _ back, and he was going to do everything in his power to  _ stay _ back, right by Barney’s side. In whatever way he was allowed.

His breath hitched when a hand, free of gloves for the first time since Before, reached up to cradle  _ his _ face. Barney’s hands were rougher than he remembered, but not by much. 

Forever in a moment later, “We should really talk, huh?” Barney could feel and see him nod. “Good timing as any, I think I just ran outta tears.”

Carefully, he was hyper aware of Barney’s legs and their fragility, Gordon got himself situated next to him. Laying side by side. Shoulder to shoulder. He barely fit like this, since Barney took his slice out of the middle.

“I don’t know how you did it, Gordon, but you’re…” He took a deep, shuddering breath, “It’s been a long time, but not for you.” 

Barney wasn’t talking about today. His left hand, the one that wasn’t squeezed between them, reached across their chests to say a simple, one-handed, “Yes.”

“I’ve missed you to hell and back, Darlin. But I’m.” One of his hands rested on top of Gordon’s. He’d always been a touchy guy. “Back in Black Mesa, the pool was pretty shallow, and maybe it’s not  _ much _ better these days but. Ah, what’m I tryna say here…”

The warmth of contact wasn’t doing much against the icy spear forming somewhere in Gordon’s rib cage.

“You can do better, Doc.”

“No.”

“What?”

He sat up, and fixed Barney with a Look. He was feeling a lot, he didn’t know which parts of it came through. “No. I understand if you’ve moved on, but there is no better than you. You are precious to me.”

This wasn’t a comfortable position, but this conversation wasn’t comfortable, so it was fine. At least his legs were resting.

Barney’s eyes were wide, deer in the headlights. It was probably jarring to be called precious when you’re being glared at? They’d had to talk about Barney’s self esteem before, and he’d be damned if he let it slip by now without saying something.

“I never moved on.” He stopped meeting his eyes, squeezed them shut. Ran a hand down his own face. ”Gordon, you’re the love of my life. I couldn’t just replace you, not with anybody.”

This was. He. He’d  _ waited? _ There were too many thoughts for him to grasp any properly, he snapped to get Barney’s attention. “You  _ waited? _ ”

“For you? Forever.”

People shouldn’t just  _ say _ things like that! Especially not right now, when they were so close together, and Gordon had mourned him. He started tearing up himself. “Barney, I haven’t stopped loving you either. I’m not going to.”

“But-”

Gordon put a finger over Barney’s lips, then continued. “We were going to grow old together, you just got a head start.” 

Despite himself, Barney snorted. “You’re awful, Freeman.”

He nodded very seriously, “Awfully in love. Now, can we stop breaking up?”

Barney’s expression just melted, tired and delighted and maybe still a little surprised. “You know what? I think I could be convinced.” He held his arms wide, “Now how about a kiss and a cuddle, darlin. I think I could pack everything I own in your eyebags.” 

Gordon was happy to oblige. He might’ve cried on him when they kissed, but it was earned. They’d both spent too long worrying about this, apparently.

It was simple to sink back into routine, felt like coming home. Because, you know what? He was. 

Once they’d settled themselves under the covers, a group effort, and Barney turned off the lamp, he realized how much he’d missed this. Gordon didn’t know how he’d been starting to convince himself he’d be fine without having Barney snoring him to sleep at night.

It was a hell of a day, but with this at the end? It was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE ALL DONE WITH MUTUAL YEARNING FOLKS! 
> 
> Fun fact, I wasn't completely pleased with that last scene but then I sent it to folks as a "deleted scene" situation and one of them actually started tearing up. 
> 
> That is how you KNOW you have been staring at your own writing too long!


	21. Feed your Gordon Daily!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WRITING! I do it. 
> 
> I realized that I never actually SAID why Alyx can't smell. She got too many alien spores in her nose while in the QT Zone. She asks "are these safe to breathe?" and I say "No they are Not."

When Barney woke up, Gordon was still sleeping. Still curled up into as small as a shape he could manage, just like he always used to.

Last night didn’t feel real. Oh, _sure_ , The Gordon Freeman came through his door, helped him through a cry, and assured him they were still lovers. That was only a _dream scenario_. It’s not like a third of the surviving populace didn’t have their own personal fantasies of how The One Free Man would save them from their demons.

But it _was_ real. He could feel Gordon breathing. When he dared to turn on the lamp, he could see scars on his neck. If he was just a fantasy, Barney wouldn’t have gave him those.

Gordon was back, he was safe, and Barney got to reintroduce him to their world.

For now, though? He’d let him sleep. After everything he’d been through, he deserved that.

Barney started on a new whittling project.

* * *

Operation “Rings” was going pretty well, all things considered. She still hadn’t found any stones, not that she’d really been looking, but what Alyx _did_ have was metal. 

One thing that was cool about scanners and manhacks was how great they were for salvaging. Cameras and their lenses were super useful, and if you didn’t explode their batteries those could be used to charge all sorts of things. Most importantly for making Barney the kind of ring he’d like to propose with, was the platinum.

With a super high melting point and plenty of structural integrity, it was perfect for all sorts of tasks around the base. Including looking pretty for a ring!

One problem, though. She’d _expected_ Gordon and Barney to be fully asleep when she peeked in on them. Instead, they were crying. So, there went _that_ opportunity to figure out their finger sizes.

So, progress was halted for a little bit. It just meant she had more time to design things, that’s all. Plus an excuse to talk to her dad. Not that she ever needed one.

She was curled up with D0G on the lab’s floor, alternating sketching designs and re-calculating some of the numbers _Mossman_ ran for the teleporter last time. 

Dad was sitting at the computer, idly rubbing the spot where his prosthetic met his leg. He must’ve been pacing again.

“Have you seen any cool rocks around, Dad?” 

He swiveled his chair a little, to show he was listening. “Can’t say I have, baby. Other than those old things.” Dad gestured loosely to the Xen crystal. 

D0G’s head audibly turned to look, the servos were kind of loud from this distance. It was soothing.

“Yeah, not those.” She reached up a hand to pat D0G’s face, Alyx knew they’d been out of their mind with worry. “It’s for wearing, and those would mess with the teleporter.”

Dad’s chair creaked as he leaned back in it. She’d have to see if she could oil it later. “Cool rocks for wearing, huh. I haven’t thought about that stuff since we got Izzy that watch.”

He sighed, wistfully, but both her and D0g perked up. Sometimes it hurt hearing about Mom, but she still craved it. “That’s from you?”

“From both of us, yeah. Izzy _always_ used to worry about where he stood in the relationship. We wanted him to have a physical reminder we loved him.” He was smiling. “Cried when he saw the engraving.”

“I’ll ask him to show me once we get the teleport working.” She jotted down _meaningful engravings_ in the margins of one of her pages, “I thought it was supposed to be rings, though.”

“Oh, me and your mom did rings, but there’s only so many grandmother’s rings passed down for generations laying around in a family. Plus, Izzy never was great when people asked questions…”

Alyx knew _all_ about how their love used to be a secret. She’d made pictures of him as a kid and labeled him as Uncle Kleiner, so he could hang them up in his office.

It was kind of hard to imagine now, though, with how open about it they were. 

He swiveled in his chair again to face her head-on. “So who’s caught your eye? I’m sure Izzy’d love to give them the shovel talk.”

That was, admittedly, a pretty funny concept. The horror at having her dad think she was dating without telling him still had her hands went flying up without her saying so. “It’s not like that!” 

“Sure it’s not, baby.” He said, looking fully unconvinced.

“When I like someone, I’ll let you know, but right now I’m making rings for Barney and Gordon.”

Dad’s smile got a little more real. “D0g, ruffle her hair for me.” 

She learned something really quickly: D0g needed a hair-ruffling protocol. Too much tugging. “Hey! This doesn’t feel like protection!” Alyx exclaimed as she swatted one of their paws away. It didn’t do much, but they got the message.

In the meantime Dad turned back to his desk and started typing something. “I’ll keep my eyes out for crystals, Barney deserves a honeymoon after all this is over.”

“Yeah, I think we all do.” She agreed before realizing, “Wait, a what?”

* * *

  
  
Gordon woke suddenly to the harsh metal clangs of machinery, jolted up, rolled out of bed, and was posed protectively in front of his partner before his eyes were fully open. 

He registered a startled noise from Barney and stood taller. Barney was capable, but not of speed right now. He had to keep him safe.

His hand went to reach for his crowbar, but it wasn’t strapped to his back. Defenseless. 

Without his glasses he couldn’t see very well, but it was good enough to see the mechanical _beast_ . It was _huge_ , a mass of gray and brown parts, probably over 8 feet tall. The face was the distinct shape of a scanner. He’d seen enough of those to recognize them, even with a fuzz around the edges.

It wasn’t striking yet. He chanced a glance down and saw it was holding a metal tray, with… Food on it.

That realization made him pause, but he was still on high alert. A tray was a suitable blunt-force weapon.

“He was sleeping so good, too!” Barney complained, voice rough from sleep, exasperated. He didn’t sound at all afraid, which was just another thing _not_ adding up.

He wasn’t willing to look away from the robot yet, but Barney seemed to know what was going on, so he settled for holding an arm behind his back and asking, “W-H-O?”

“Gordon, this is D0g, official Best Friend in the Resistance.” The bed and Barney both audibly groaned. “I’m _not_ ready to get up, but we do appreciate the breakfast, Pup.”

D0g straightened up impossibly taller and made a… Proud sort of sound. 

Gordon finally realized he was hyperventilating.

“Come back to bed, Darling?” 

There was a long silence. He wanted to, he _really_ wanted to, but without fight or flight he’d resorted to freezing. 

Barney sighed, “D0g, give us a minute, would you?”

D0g whirred and turned on a dime. He was hyper aware of every clunk of their body made against the floor, and he watched with wide eyes as they somehow managed to squeeze themself through a door half their size. 

Only after they pulled it shut behind them could Gordon slowly, slowly was better than being frozen in terror, turn to look at Barney again.

He was awkwardly propped up on one elbow, the other arm held up in invitation. It didn’t look like it’d be comfortable long-term. 

His shoulders loosened a little, without him thinking about it. Now that he was paying attention, it was incredibly obvious how stiff he was as he settled back in across from Barney. The way his arm draped over him was so relaxed, a gentle affection. 

“Hey, Doc.” Barney’s hair was ruffled from sleeping, but it didn’t stick up as much as Gordon’s always did. “Do you want me to touch you when you’re panicked like that?”

He shook his head. Definitely not. Gordon rolled himself so he was facing him fully. “I might hit you.“ 

“Makes sense.” And maybe it did. There was no way he was the only one who reacted that strongly to perceived danger. 

Barney was rubbing his shoulder now, slowly and steadily. Almost a tempo he could breathe along to. “Why don’t we try this one again, Darlin’?”

"A take two would be nice.” 

“Alright, how do you want your first morning with us to go?” 

As Gordon thought it over, if he might like another shower or if he still felt fine, he looked at Barney. His patient smile. He seemed so calm and relaxed, like he was content just to stare back at Gordon. Like they had all the time in the world.

Well, he knew one thing he wanted. “Can I kiss you?”

Barney’s breath hitched, but his grin got larger on the exhale. Joy wrinkled his eyes. “Any time.” 

So he did. Barney eagerly held his cheek as the distance between them was closed. He caressed his face, palm flat against Gordon’s stubble. Thoughts of shaving were fleeting and replaced by simpler thoughts. Like warm. Soft. Nice.

They parted for breath, then joined again. 

Gordon ended it all with one final smooch to Barney’s cheek. He always loved how round they were, especially when he smiled like this.

“ _Now_ we can have breakfast.” He declared, and revelled in Barney’s laugh.

“Alright, then.” His thumb stroked over Gordon’s cheek one last time, “Now cover your ears, the two of them are definitely still waiting out there.”

The two of who, was a good question, but he got his answer soon enough. 

Barney waited until Gordon was sitting up, hands firmly clasped over his ears before he yelled, “ _COME ON IN!_ ”

It was still very loud, even with his ears covered. He was _really_ glad he’d been warned.

He couldn’t hear the door creak this time as Alyx came into view, D0g following soon after. Oh, _those_ two. 

One last deep breath before he lowered his hands again. “Good morning.”

“Morning, guys! I brought the _good_ stuff, to celebrate your first day back.” She gestured loosely with the tray she was holding, somehow _not_ sloshing the glass of water everywhere. 

“Do we have seasonings? The Citadel always forgot them.” 

Barney patted his shoulder for attention, “I’m gonna need help up.”

“I don’t think the Combine would know good food if you smacked em with it.” Alyx handed her tray over to D0g, who was already holding the one from earlier on some sort of notches being used as shelves, to come help Gordon prop up the bed.

“You said it!” Barney agreed, “Someone needs to tell them about salt.”

Strangely enough, the bed frame was sliced down the middle, short-ways, and had a hinge. The front or back of the bed could be propped up with some bricks in a corner, and had been when Gordon first arrived yesterday.

Odd solution, but charming. 

After a little heavy lifting, and a lot of help with D0g that definitely helped endear them to Gordon, everybody got to eat breakfast.

It was one of the best meals he’d had in what felt like forever. He’d eaten a _lot_ of vending machine pistachios during the Resonance Cascade. Soup. At first he was afraid it’d be some sort of animal stock, but it sure didn’t taste like it. 

There were some carrots visible in the broth, very nice glad they still had those. It was sweet and garlicky, a strange combination. A good combination.

“So I was asking Gordon what he’d like to do today.” Barney said between spoonfuls of his own bowl. “Got anything in the vents you need fixing?”

She laughed. “Not yet! We’ll get back to you on that.” Alyx was eating a wrapped bar of _something._ Maybe this was one of those ration bars? She seemed perfectly fine with it.

He’d always gotten blocks of food at the Citadel. He was starting to suspect that they just unwrapped ration bars for him and put them on plates.

Gordon carefully balanced his bowl, the chipped one out of the two, in his lap. “I need to shave.”

“You’re getting rid of the beard? It’s iconic!” Alyx exclaimed, and D0g made a similarly distressed noise from next to her. They wrapped a limb around her, as if to protect her from the very thought.

“Just the stubble! I like my beard.” He’d worked too hard for the beard to just give it up. Without it he looked like a kid, anyway. 

“I might need a shave soon, too. I’ve been putting it off.” Barney absently rubbed a hand over his own face.

“I like it either way.” He kissed Barney’s cheek again, just because he could.

“Well, if we’re all doing hair stuff, we should paint your ponytail!” Alyx patted D0g’s side with a dull thud. “How’d the color test go?”

They gave what looked a lot like a thumbs up with the hand with the more distinct fingers. This time, he didn’t even consider flinching.

“Well color _me_ excited, I’m sure whatever you two came up with’ll look great.” Barney’s next slurp of soup was audible. “Unless you’re considering a mullet again.”

“You had a _mullet?_ ” 

Gordon decided right then to dodge any questions about his early college days with soup. He had at least a couple spoonfuls of dignity left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me, I appreciate the patience! Consider checking out that thing I have linked as the second part of this series. It's a little winter gift exchange thing with Gordon and Barney.
> 
> Same universe, no spoilers. It is post-this-canon but we all know I'm giving them a happy ending.
> 
> Also my thoughts are plagued with Barney's arms open wide for Gordon and him saying, "Come here, my little Pogchamp." Thank you goodnight.


End file.
